


30 day Fedal challenge

by Johnlock4ever



Category: Tennis RPF
Genre: 30 Day OTP Challenge, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dating, First Kiss, Fluff, Gaming, Holding Hands, Kissing, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Prompt Fic, Television Watching, Tennis, movies - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2019-07-27 17:14:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 28,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16223648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Johnlock4ever/pseuds/Johnlock4ever
Summary: Prompts everyday of October with our favorite couple! Mostly Fedal and mostly fluffy!! Hope you enjoy this!





	1. Day 1 "Hand Holding"

Laver cup, Rafa thought, was the best idea someone could ever think of. 

It was Roger's idea, obviously, what other human being could come off with such an incredible and perfect idea? No one, just another perfect and incredible person, Roger fucking Federer.

Team Europe was sure to win, they had amazing players, like him and Roger, Alexander Zverev, Dominic Thiem, Marin Čilić and Thomás Berdych. Let's not forget their team captain and coach, Björn Borg, the great swiss player.

Talking about them, they were all sitting together eating breakfast in one of those Prague hotels they have booked. They were all dressed in casual clothes, it was their first day here after arriving and none of them had practice, interview or any other thing to do.

Rafa was wearing a baby blue polo with some washed jeans that he found in his bag. It was truly a miracle that he had been able to find it since the room was a complete and utter mess.

It wasn't his fault only the room was messy. No no no no, Roger played a part in it too. They had booked two separate rooms, so no one would suspect anything, but Roger had payed the younger player a visit late at night to express how much he loved the Spaniard and in an attempt to find the things they needed, he had turned the whole room upside down. Oh, but the mess had been worth it, Rafa thought remembering how last night they had explored each other with such tender and care that it almost seemed unrealistic.

Roger, as always, was dressed in his best clothes, yet maintaining an air of normalcy in it. He was wearing a dark blue jumper with some dark jeans, his hair all perfectly combed; a great contrast to Rafa's still wet curls that hung free and fell over his face.

"Hey. " A soft voice beside him pulled the young man out of his thoughts. He could recognize that voice in a sea of thousands, turning to face the intruder of his thoughts, he smiled, knowing exactly who he was.

"Rogelio!" The Spaniard cherished as he hugged the older man quickly, so no one would doubt it wasn't just a friendly hug.

The Swiss gave him a soft smile,one that was only reserved for him and that no other person knew. Putting a hand on Rafa's shoulder he said, "Why don't we sit and eat?" Rafa nodded eagerly, he was starving! 

They walked together to team's Europe table, their hands grazing each other, but never quite touching. It sent shivers down the younger's man spine and made him flush a soft shade of pink. Roger shot him a bemused look, before giggling quietly. "Shut up!" Rafa whispered, giggling too alongside Roger.

They finally made it to their table and sat next to each other, everyone was already eating and chatting with each other, but they tried to include their teammates.

"So what are you guys doing later?" Asked Domi as he bit down on a piece of pineaple and gestured Rafa and Roger with his silvery fork. 

"We gonna hang in my room, no? Play some FIFA, talk,no?" Rafa said with a hint of nervousness in his voice.

Dominic gave them a weird look, like he wasn't quite believing what Rafael was saying. Roger might have caught this sudden tension as he was quick to rephrase Rafa's sentence.

"Domi! We're going to play some video games on Rafa's PlayStation and then discuss some strategies for our doubles match," he said with a confident smile that made Rafa's heart melt with love.

But still, he was nervous. What is Dominic had found it strange that they were meeting alone in his room? That they were going to play FIFA, even if Roger didn't like it. What if he had found out the real truth?

The Swiss must've seen his pale face, because he left his fork on the table and grabbed Rafa's hand, that was currently tapping incessantly on his knee, beneath the table cloth.

He interlaced their fingers and Rafa gave a soft squeeze I'm return. The thumb of Roger's calloused hand caressing and drawing patterns on the palm of his hand was enough to make him forget about all the things he had been worrying about. He squeezed Roger's hand in affection, also giving the older man a heartfelt smile that made those dark chocolate eyes twinkle with something only both of them knew: Love.


	2. Day 2 "Cuddling somewhere"

It was very late at night. 

All of the other players had gone to their respective rooms to get some rest for tomorrow’s inauguration ceremony, none of them wanting to be tired for some action. 

All of them except two tennis players. The current n°1 and n°2. Rafael Nadal and Roger Federer. 

People knew they were rivals, the best rivalry known in tennis history. They payed thousands just to see them play against each other. But there was one thing that none of them knew. The most infamous rivals had gone and fallen in love. 

Since they met in Miami in 2004, the Spaniard was captivated by the older Swiss. And when they played the Wimbledon final in 2008, the Swiss revealed his feelings towards the younger man. 

10 years later, they're here, in New York, for the 138th US Open. They're are big hopes pinned both of them. Maybe they could give the crowd another Fedal final. 

These two guys, were in the players lounge, alone. And if people would see them.... let's just say they would probably be shocked by the image in front of their eyes. 

Roger was sitting on the plush sofa...with Rafa cradled on his arms. 

The Spaniard was nested in between the strong arms of Roger. His soft breathing was a clear indicator of how tired he really was. Meanwhile, the Swiss was gently stroking Rafa's brown curls, those who he remembered were thicker in the past, but that just means that he has watched the love of his life age by his side. 

Both of them were equally tired, but they didn't want to leave their intimate, and comfortable, position in order to get to their rooms. Roger ran a soft hand down Rafa's side, gently caressing the Mallorcan’s tan ski. 

Rafa stirred against Roger's chest, he lifted his head up and caught his lover's intense stare on him. 

"Hola..." he said with a shy smile, before hugging tighter the Swiss. 

Roger smiled lazily, giving the younger man a sweet kiss on the forehead. "You know I love you, right?"

The Spaniard giggled, the sound resonating inside Roger. "Of course, I love you too, Rogi," Rafa said as snuggled against his neck and gave him a soft peck there. 

"What do you say of getting out of here and coming to my room?" The Swiss asked the Spaniard. 

"Your room? To sleep, no?" Rafa asked with a sheepish smile that made the older man question how no one knew how dirty Rafa could really be. 

He let out a laugh, "Yeah, to sleep. If we stay here, we'll be all cramped tomorrow," he said as his hand lingered on Rafa's cheek and jaw, before giving him a soft smile. 

Rafael grinned, "Sí, you right. Let's go." He tried to get up, but two strong arms made the task at hand impossible. 

"Give me a kiss," Roger said hugging the younger man tightly. 

Rafa chucked and rolled his eyes, "Could never say no to that." Before closing the gap between them and sharing a sweet and delicate kiss. 

Rafa and Roger were the best rivals....who had gone and fallen.


	3. Day 3 "Watching movies/Gaming"

Roger Federer was an avid movie fan. Everyone knew that. 

He liked Inception, the Dark Knight, mostly every movie, specially when he watched them with a special someone. It would usually mean Mirka, since he and his wife lived together, but on special occasions, that special someone would be nobody but the great Rafael Nadal. 

And tonight was an special occasion. 

"Hey Raf, wanna come see a movie tonight?" Roger asked Rafa by phone. 

There was silence from the other side of the line for a second, before a respond came. 

"Sí! In your house? Mirka be there?" The Spaniard asked with a hint of concern in his voice. 

Mirka was aware of Rafa's and Roger's relationship, her husband had told her when he began going out with Rafa. Surprisingly, she seemed to understand that her husband needed to be with Rafael. Although the younger man knew this, he still seemed uncomfortable when he knew she was around. 

Roger's wife had taken the kids to visit their grandparents, and she would be staying with them for at least another night. 

"No, she's out with the kids," he said trying to reassure his young lover. "We'll have the house alone to ourselves." He added in a hushed voice, smiling stupidly. 

He heard Rafa chuckle on the other side of the line. "You an idiot Rogelio. Okay, I be there in an hour." The Spaniard said with a grin he knew the Swiss couldn't see. 

"Right, love you Raf!" Roger said as he paced through his living room. 

"También te amo," Rafa finished, with Roger oblivious to the blush that was currently spreading through the younger man’s cheeks. 

The Swiss hung up, a soft smile on his face. Now he had to get ready for their movie night. 

***

An hour later, Rafa was standing in front of the big wooden door. He felt nervous, but in a good way. Like when you're about to get married and you see the love of your life walking towards you, not that he had the pleasure to experience that. 

Shrugging off that feeling, he rang the doorbell, a smile on plastered on his face. It wasn't five seconds later when the door was opened by the handsome Swiss. 

Roger wasn't dressed to impress, he was wearing an old Roger Federer t-shirt and some grey sweatpants that hung low on his hips. To Rafa, it didn't matter how the older man dressed, because it always made his breath catch in his throat, no matter if he was wearing a tuxedo or was naked, although that made things completely different. 

"Hey, come on in," the Swiss whispered as moved to let the Spaniard in. 

Rafa nodded and entered the quiet house. When the door closed behind Roger, he turned and crashed his lips against his. 

"I think I dressed too pretty," Rafa said in between kisses. 

Roger caressed his jaw while nibbling on his lower lip. "You're perfect. But if you keep kissing me we won't be able to watch the movie," he said while he gently pulled apart earning a pout from Rafa. 

The two players locked eyes, a light shimmering behind those brown hues. Roger grabbed the younger one's hand and led them to the sofa, where a soft blue blanket had been sprawled and pillows were thrown in each corner of it. A bucket of sweets and popcorn were left on the coffee table, making the Spaniard realize how hungry he was. 

"You do this for me?" Rafa asked his boyfriend with a chuckle. 

Roger hugged him by the waist, resting his head on the younger man’s shoulder and giving him a soft kiss below his ear. "Of course, I would do anything for you."

"Let me win Wimbledon?"

The Swiss laughed hard, "Let's not push your luck and watch the movie." He made a sign to the couch. 

Rafa nodded and soon found himself resting his head and body on top of Roger, who was sprawled on the sofa with only the blanket covering them from the cold air. 

"What movie we watch?" Rafa asked as he snuggled closer, looking for th heat the Swiss provided. 

"Gladiator," the Swiss said with a laugh knowing that that was Rafa's favorite movie. 

The younger man gasped, a huge grin appearing on his face. "Sí! You the best Rogi!" He kissed him on the cheek. 

"I love you too Raf." He wrapped his arms tighter around the young man. "Now shhh! The movie is about to begin." Rafa gave him another kiss, now on the lips. 

Let's just say that they missed some parts of the movie.


	4. Day 4 "On a Date"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the love and support you're giving to this story! Now let's get to our favorite ship!

After the 2017 ATP finals, Roger decided to spend a little time with Rafa in Mallorca. 

The Spaniard was very pleased with the idea of having the Swiss all to himself for a couple of days and couldn't wait to finally arrive. 

"I gonna show you the best places in Mallorca," Rafa texted Roger the night before leaving London and returning to Spain. 

"Yeah? Bet they're amazing, Raf." The Swiss replied almost immediately, adding a winky face at the end of his message. 

"Idiota" Rafa chuckled as he turned off his phone and went to sleep with all the plans he had for him and Roger in his mind. 

***

Rafa arrived first. 

It was probably normal since his flight had left a little bit earlier than Roger's. Well, that meant he had time to prepare the surprise he had planned for Roger carefully. 

He entered the house and went directly to his bedroom in order to leave his bag and take a shower. After all, he needed to be presentable when his boyfriend arrived, not that Roger minded seeing Rafa in his natural state. 

The younger one took things with calm, Roger wasn't arriving till late evening and it was still noon. No need to rush. 

He left the shower with a towel wrapped around his hips, water still dripping down his hair, and almost had a heart attack when he saw Roger standing in front of him. 

"Joder, Rogelio!" The Spaniard shrieked, taking one hand to his heart and clutching the towel tightly. 

Roger double in laughing, "Careful, Raf, we don't want you to let go of that towel," he said as he walked towards him and placed a heavy hand on his hip, between the white towel and the beginning of his abdomen. 

"What you doing here?" Rafa said, looking confused at the older player. 

Roger huffed, a smirk on his lips. "What? Not even a kiss? I thought you treated your guests properly, Mr.Nadal," Roger said with a devilish grin. 

Rafa smiled while rolling his eyes playfully. He wrapped his arms around Roger's neck and locked his eyes with the other man's. 

"I treat my guests the best, Mr.Federer." Roger hummed at the comment and pulled Rafa's body closer to him. 

The Spaniard closed the distance between them and soon their lips were touching. Roger pressed Rafa impossibly closer while he tangled his fingers in Roger's perfect hair. Their lips moved harmoniously, fitting like puzzle pieces like they were made for each other. Roger breathed in Rafa's unique scent while still kissing him, their tongues making a strange dance inside their mouths.

They finally parted in need of air, but their foreheads were still touching.

"Hi..." The Swiss said chuckling at this weird welcome.

Rafa gave him a small toothy smile, breaking apart from Roger's embrace. He smacked his arm playfully, "You go leave your bags, I need finish getting dressed," the Spaniard said, pushing gently the older man out of the room.

Roger made a pout, although it wasn't as good as the ones Rafa made, trying to stay in the bedroom. "But I think you look nice!"

The younger man's eyes widen as he giggled."I'm naked, Rogi!"

"That's why!"

The Mallorcan just shook his head as he finally managed to get Roger out of the room. He heard how the Swiss laughed while he went to leave his bags in the guest room, though he wouldn't get too much sleep there. Rafa grabbed the clothes he has spread on the bed before getting in the shower, some khakis shorts and a soft t-shirt. He ran the towel through his brown locks in an attempt to dry them a little bit, before stepping outside.

"Rogi?" No answer.

Rafa was confused, he began searching for the older man, first on the guest room...no Roger. The bathroom...no Rogelio either. He was starting to get really worked up when he got to the living room and found his lover in the balcony, looking at the beautiful Mallorcan sea.

Rafa went behind him and hugged him by the waist, making the older man yelp in surprised. 

"You scared the living crap out of me," Roger said looking back at Rafa with heart eyes. 

The younger man just shrugged his shoulders,"Now we're even, no?"

They both chuckled, hugging each other while watching the waves crash on the shore. 

"I wanna take you out to dinner, I promised no?" Rafa smiled at his lover. 

Roger nodded eagerly, realizing he hadn't ate since he got on the plane. "I'll eat anything... except jellyfish." He laughed softly. 

The Spaniard grinned and both of them left the balcony to go to the restaurant. 

Rafa had taken them to a small restaurant that was not that far away from the house. It wasn't a fancy place, so neither of them had to get too dressed up. 

The waiter took them to a table for two in the corner of the restaurant and giving them the menus, she left the two men alone to decide what to eat. 

"I don't understand anything!" Roger exclaimed with amusement in his voice. 

Rafa lowered his menu, "I order something for both of us, we share."

Roger sent him a thank you look, and squeezed his hand under the table while Rafa talked to their waiter in fluent Spanish. 

"What did you order?"

The younger man didn't answer and just gave him a sheepish smirk. Minutes later a bottle of wine arrived, followed by a bowl of stew. 

Thanking the waiter, Rafa grabbed the bottle and poured them two glasses. 

"This is Arros Brut, typical food of Mallorca." He gave Roger one spoon. "It has rice, meat, and vegetables, a good mix."

The Swiss grabbed a spoonful of the stew, and was amazed at how wonderful it tasted. Rafa did the same and both of them grinned at each other, savouring the taste.

They began to chat in between bites, talking about their private lives and some random things. Not even 1 hour later, the stew and the wine were gone. 

"Let me pay," Roger offered as the good gentleman he was. 

But Rafa didn't let him, "No, I invite you, I pay."

They started bickering about this until they agreed on splitting the bill. 

They returned home by feet, enjoying the soft breeze that chilled them from the hot night. Hands intertwined and softs "I love you’s" were said under the big Mallorcan moon in a night that only them would remember.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another day on the bag! Man, this is so fun!! Please leave comments and kudos, it really helps! See you tomorrow fellas!!


	5. Day 5 "Wearing each other's clothes"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not updating yesterday guys!! I was finishing homework and didn't had the time to write! Here's another chapter, I hope I'm not to busy with school to write another. Hope to see you tomorrow!!

Everyone knew Rafa looked good in sleeveless. 

Roger couldn't pull that look though, he didn't had Rafa's arms for starters. One time he said that was the main reason he didn't dress like his rival, but he was close to contradict that statement. 

Let's be honest, Roger loved how Rafa looked sleeveless, and that he couldn't look the same didn't bother him at all. He had Rafa looking good, and that was enough. 

It was during a hot day in Mallorca in which Roger did the thing he thought he would never do. He was staying with Rafa for a couple of days, enjoying the time away from the Tour with his other half, while resting below the scorching Spanish sun. Rafa had suggested playing a little bit on one of the tennis courts and Roger couldn't say no. 

Really, who could say no to the Spaniard’s puppy eyes that seemed to melt your entire heart by one look? Roger was happy to play some games against the younger one, it would help him stay active and they would have fun. 

The problem came the day before, Rafa had left the shower on and it had wet most of his clothes, leaving him without something to wear for tomorrow. 

"No worry, Rogi," Rafa had said with a smile that made the Swiss forget about the problem. "I give you another shirt for you to wear." He gave the older man a swift kiss on the cheek. 

"Thanks Rafa, although this is mostly your fault," Roger said chuckling and splashing some of the water to Rafa. 

"Rogelio! You wetting me!" The Spaniard shrieked with a smile. 

"That's revenge for you!" They continued playing with water, teasing each other for the rest of the evening. 

***

In the morning, Rafa woke up first, Roger was holding him tightly against his chest. He tried to get up without disturbing the Swiss’s sleep, but failed trying. 

"Where are you going?" Roger mumbled, his voice thick with sleep. He tried to pull Rafa to bed again. 

"I gonna get you clothes,no? I wet yours yesterday, you get new ones from me," Rafa said while planting a sweet kiss on Roger's forehead before leaving the bed and beginning to search for some clothes for the older man. 

He smiled to himself for the choices he had made. 

"I'm not wearing this, Rafa!" Roger complained when he saw what the Spaniard had gotten for him. "I'm not going sleeveless."

Rafa burst into laughter,"But you gonna look so good, Rogi!" He said as he put a hand on his lover's shoulder who shot him a deadpan look. 

"Vamos! We be late if you keep complaining!" Rafa almost dragged the poor Swiss out of the house, who had put on a sweater to hide his look. 

They arrived at Rafa's academy, it was mostly deserted, as Rafa had booked a private court so no one would walk into them. And Roger said "mostly" because there was another person there, Carlos Moya. 

"Hola, Rafa, Roger!" The older Spaniard greeted them with a handshake. 

"Isn't it a bit hot, Roger, to be wearing a sweater?"

The Swiss suddenly felt very self-conscious, and Rafa didn't help, at all. 

"SI,Rogi! Come, let's begin. I'll let you have first set." Rafa said as he parted Roger on the shoulder and gave him a mischievous smile. 

Roger left his stuff on one of the benches, took his racket out of his bag, put on headband and wristbands, and then, finally, took of his sweater. 

"Oh! He's going sleeveless!" Carlos chuckled. "You look good, Roger!"

"He does, Carlos!" Rafa beamed from across the court, making Roger smile a small smile. If Rafa thought he REALLY looked good, the rest didn't matter. 

They played all day between laughs and jokes, Rafa sticking to his promise of letting Roger win first set. And when they finished, it was almost noon. 

"I love your arms, sabes?" Rafa said when they were packing their things. He walked towards Roger, pressing his flustered body against the Swiss’. "I really think you look perfect." Rafa kissed Roger on the corner of his mouth. 

"You look better, though. I adore your arms, Raf," Roger said as he crashed his lips against the Spaniard’s, not caring about Carlos, since he already knew. The only thing he focuses on was how Rafa melted against their kiss, how he caressed Roger's arms, the scent he had when he had finished playing a match all over his body, the way their tongues seemed to dance around each other, a dance only them knew. 

Maybe Roger didn't look bad in sleeveless, but he would leave that style to Rafa from now on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another day on the bag, wuff! I hope you've enjoyed this one! Remember to leave kudos and comments, they really help!


	6. Day 6 "Cosplaying"

"Why we have to dress up, Rogi?" The Spaniard whinnied at the Swiss. 

Roger chuckled as he finished the final touches of his own costume. 

"It's Halloween, Raf ! We might not go trick-or-treating but we still can enjoy a night to ourselves in our costumes and watch some scary movies," he said while he hugged Rafa from behind, who was currently studying himself in front of the mirror. 

"I not like my costume," Rafa pouted, turning to Roger and giving him his best puppy eyes. 

Roger smiled. He himself was dressed as Super-Man, the costume was just a little bit tight, but it was okay. Rafa was going as a zombie-tennis-player, and he seemed to not like it. 

"Why not, baby?" Roger sweetly asked as he snuggled against the younger’s man neck, prepping soft kisses there also. "I think you look cute."

Rafa shot him a dead look through the mirror, the black circles that Roger had painted beneath his eyes making him more menacing. 

"Why me be a zombie-tennis-player? I already a player!"

Roger hugged Rafa tighter, sending him a loving stare through the mirror. If he was being honest, Rafa looked dashing, with his white face, black eyes, blood smeared all over his face, real cutie. No but seriously, he looked fine. Yes, he already was a tennis player, but not a zombie one. It just was so funny, that Roger couldn't deny it. 

"You are, but not a zombie one," Roger whispered against his ear. 

Rafa chuckled, leaning back against Roger, intertwining their hands together. "Sí, no zombie players on Tour, no? Gotta be the first," he said turning his whole body to face Roger with a huge grin on his bloody and decaying face. 

"I can't take you seriously with that face, Raf," Roger burst into laughter, Rafa punching him softly on the shoulder. 

"You wouldn't make a good Superman, you mean to citizens," Rafa giggled as both of them walked towards their bed, which had sweets waiting for them. 

Roger smiled and pushed Rafa to bed on his back, straddling him. "Me? Mean? First of all, you're not a citizen, you're a zombie, Rafa," Roger said as he prepped sloppy kissed on Rafa's jaw and cheek. 

The Spaniard chuckled, caressing Roger's chest over the big Superman symbol. "I was one, Rogelio!"

They kissed again, this kiss was more passionate, it irradiated the love they felt for each other. And who would have thought that Superman would end up falling in love with a zombie-tennis-player. 

This two dorks ended enjoying a very happy Halloween

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter here for you! This one a little bit Halloween themed. I'm so happy for Roger playing the semifinals tomorrow! Hope you enjoyed this, remember to comment and leave kudos. Love ya kiddos!


	7. Day 7 "Going out for Ice Cream"

It was a hot day in Wimbledon, when Rafa had suggested to go out and eat. 

Roger was not very fond of the idea, since he had arrived with his family and none of them knew the secret "affair" he had with Rafa. The young Spaniard had reassured him that nothing would happen and that no one would notice they've been gone for at least an hour, but still he felt a bit unsure of this idea. 

Since it was very hot, the weather not Rafa, the younger man had suggested an ice cream place he knew nearby. He said they served the best ones in all London, and that they were his favorite. 

"Are we near, yet?" Roger asked for the forth time, he felt they've been walking for hours. Maybe it was just the sun and heat playing tricks in his head, but you never know. 

Rafa smiled, his dark eyes gleaming under his sunglasses. The two of them were wearing baseball caps and sunglasses in order to go "incognito" amongst the British population. 

"We close, is this store on the corner," Rafa said pointing at a small cafe that was just on the corner of the street they were in. 

Roger sighed, relieved to have finally reached their destination. The cafe itself was very minimalist, with a sorted of vintage touch. Small tables scattered around, with just a few customers chatting amicably. 

He grinned, this place was good, it looked cute, they would have a nice time here in each other's company. 

"This place is beautiful, Rafa. I'm glad you convinced this stubborn man to come with you," Roger joked as both of them made their way to the counter to order their ice creams. 

"Sí, I very smart. Now, which one you want?" He asked, signaling all the different flavours. 

Roger scanned them, trying to decide which one to get for himself. "I'm gonna go with a strawberry one, please," he asked the person who was serving them, politely. 

"Me a chocolate!" Rafa chirped in. 

After they have been given their respective ice creams, both players went to sit in the corner of the restaurant, where they were safe from curious eyes. 

"This is nice," Roger said with a smile after giving a lick at his cold dessert. 

Rafa nodded enthusiastically, eating his ice cream. "Rogi?" he asked, "Can I taste yours?"

The Swiss chuckled, touched by the sweetness in the younger player's voice. "Of course, baby," he offered him the cone. 

Rafa smiled, taking the ice cream from Roger's hand and giving it a few licks. He hummed, pleased with the taste. "Is good, but I like mine better." He stuck his tongue out in a childish manner. 

Roger giggled, taking another note of his ice cream. Moments like this, moments shared with Rafa, were the ones Roger wanted to replay forever, always with him by his side.


	8. Day 8 "Kiss"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roger and Rafa share their first kiss. Is it what they expected? Did they liked it? Find out the answers in this chapter!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, gals, and non binary pals! Here is another chapter. Fedal first kiss! I hope you like it and enjoy!

It was a normal day in Mallorca, with sunny skies, warm weather, people enjoying themselves outside, and the calm sound of the waves crashing into the rocks on the shore. This was a beautiful day in our young player’s hometown. 

The thing was, he wasn't outside, hanging out with his friends or family. Nor was he sailing the sea on his yacht, delighted by the way the sun caressed his tan skin, how the waves lapped against the bottom of his boat. Everyone found it very strange that the young Spaniard had decided to spend this gorgeous day inside his home, lounging without any care in the world. 

Rafa’s house was not small, by all means. He was an ATP player, one of the best, in fact, currently holding the world number one position, winner of 17 Grand Slam titles, 11 French Open titles, which meant that money wasn't a topic he was concerned about. 

It was late noon when he had decided to finally get our of his bedroom, after scrolling aimlessly on his phone for half an hour, and go get some food from the kitchen to feed his hungry stomach. The only sound in the empty house were his bare feet against the cold tiles on the floor. Fortunately for him, Meri, his sister, had left him some leftovers from their breakfast before heading to the beach for him in the fridge. He grabbed the plate of Iberian ham and bread, poured a glass of orange juice, and sat on the table with his phone by his side, as he ate the delicious food. 

His phone's screen lit up as a new message arrived. He left his fork on the plate, wiping his hand on the napkin before unlocking his iPhone to read the message. To his surprise, it was a text from Roger Federer. 

More than a text, it was a picture followed by a brief message that made Rafa’s heart melt entirely. 

"You can't imagine how much this moment means to me <3."

It was a photo of them back in 2008, Wimbledon, the final. In the photo they were standing at the net, hugging each other after the match had ended, Rafa had defeated Roger after an almost five hour game and the most intense tie break you could ever experience. He smiled fondly at the memories that simple picture brought back to life in his mind. He remembered how well it had felt finally win Wimbledon, how it had felt to play against Roger, the man that with just one look made Rafa weak on the knees, that made his heart kind of flutter everytime he gave him one of those charming smiles. They had hugged in the net after,Rafa leaning against the heat the Swiss radiated after the long match, Roger saying that he had played well and Rafa wishing that there were ties in tennis, their talk was drowned in a sea of applauses and cheering from the fans, but Rafa didn't even notice, he was too cought up in the way Roger's hand hugged his wait firmly, yet in a way that demoted gentleness. 

After the match, he had gone to the locker room to shower and get dressed in fresh clothes. He had thought Roger would be gone by now, since it had passes some time since the game had ended. The Spaniard was surprised when he found the Swiss sitting on one of the benches scrolling through his phone with one hand, his dark chocolate curls dripping wet with water, he was already in new clothes, but wasn't making any move leave. 

"Roger?" Rafa had asked cautiously, thick accent rolling off his tongue from tiredness. 

The older man lifted his head from his phone and gave the Spaniard a soft smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. 

"Hey, Rafa," he said nothing else, the two of them loosing themselves in each other's eyes, until it was Rafa who broke their gaze. 

He made his way to Roger, sitting on a bench in front of him. "Something is wrong?" He asked, placing a gentle hand on top of Roger's knee. "Why you still here? Mirka must be waiting."

Roger huffed as he smiled, placing a hand on top of Rafa’s. The younger player wondered how someone with such a strong grip on his racket could hold his hand so tenderly. His heart began to race when Roger began drawing circles on his hand. 

"I wanted to congratulate you privately for your win," he said looking down at theirs almost intertwined hands. "You played greatly, if someone deserved to win it was you," he scooted closer to Rafa, "I know I shouldn't be saying this, my agents would think it very unprofessional and dumb, but I think that maybe you have stirred something inside of me, Rafa." Roger looked at him with a heartfelt smile, his eyes gleaming with something he had never seen in anyone's eyes, not even his parents’. 

He was left speechless, was Roger really saying what he thought he was saying? Could he really feel any sort of attraction towards Rafa? He stood up quickly, breaking the link between their hands, too afraid of his own feelings. 

"Yo... I-I don't- don't," he fumbled with his words, his brain too shocked by the situation to even think of anything to say in english. 

Roger stood up and before he could withdraw his mind from those thoughts, he sealed their lips together, his hand running through his damp hair. Rafa let out a sound of surprised that was soon drowned as he kissed back with the same urgency and passion the Swiss was putting in to the kiss. Their lips moved together in complete harmony, Roger's much more experienced tongue parted softly Rafa’s trembling lips, the touch of it sending a spark down the Spaniard’s spine. He grabbed a hold of Roger's shirt, feeling like he might faint if he didn't have anything to support him. One of Roger's hand rested on his hip, while the other cupped his jaw as his thumb caressed his cheek. 

They broke apart for the stupid need of air, but their foreheads remained touching. As their breaths evened, he smiled, happy to be the one Roger loved. 

"I think I love you, Rafa," the Swiss whispered in their shared space. 

The Spaniard grinned, "I think me too, Rogi."

They laughed together, the only sound resonating in the empty locker room that had been witness of the first kiss shared by these two great tennis players. 

Rafa smiled at his phone, sending a reply as fast as his fingers would allow him. 

"I think it means the same it means to me."

He sent another one. 

"I love you so much Rogelio!! <3"

Not even 3 seconds had passed when a reply arrived. 

"I might love you even more, Rafa :) xxx <3<3"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another ending, get a new beginning! What will tomorrow bring? I hope you have enjoyed this first kiss, it is the first one I write! Leave comments and kudos is you please, it really helps me! If school doesn't kill me, I'll see you guys tomorrow! Peace out!!!


	9. Day 9 "Wearing Animal Ears"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the ninth chapter of this challenge! I'm so proud of myself for making it this far, I have never written anything like this before. Now, apart from by rambling, the chapter is here, read, smile, enjoy. I'm gonna make myself a cup of tea. ;)

This thing they were doing was just a bit weird. 

It was weird but in a good way, nothing to be ashamed of or embarrassed of. Maybe the later was a feeling you might get, but it was expected. After all, he was wearing animal ears. 

Roger felt his face flush at the reminder of what was he wearing, hoping the dim lights of the party were enough to cover it up. The smell of expensive champagne and body sweat, filled the Swiss’ nose, telling him to grab one of those shinny drinks many waiters were carrying on silver trays. He grabbed one, thanking the server and gulping the alcohol in one swift drink, refreshing his sore throat and hoping that if anyone noticed his light blush, they would blame it on the alcohol. He left his empty glass on a nearby table and scanned the room. 

It was strange to be here, specially dressed like this. Roger was overwhelmed by all the different and familiar faces he saw. It was a tennis player's party, what was he expecting? To not know anyone? He huffed, laughing softly at himself, trying to decipher who was who from the distance he was at. 

He could see Serena Williams, hanging out at the bar with Caroline Wozniackie, both women chatting amicably and laughing together. On the other side was Novak Djokovic, currently talking to Maria Sharapova. All the other tennis players were mostly doing the same, with a few of them dancing to the fast beat that was resonating through the speakers. 

Now, what was with the animal ears? You may ask. Well, this party, was not a normal player's party. Nope, it wasn't like anything you've seen before. Every player and guest here was wearing animal ears. Why? Because they were trying to raise funds for an organization that was currently struggling to save endangered species in the wild. The one who had given the idea was Dimitrov, saying it woul be an interesting and fun way to raise awareness among the people who followed them. 

Roger had agreed, not knowing what it would be like exactly to roam a party wearing goat ears on a headband. The damn thing even had horns! He hadn't chose them, they had been given to him when he entered the party, so now he was wearing a suit and tie, with goat ears on his head. 

He was about to get another glass of champagne when someone tapped his shoulder timidly. Roger turned around, prepared to face another interviewer or avid fan, but was met with deep brown eyes staring back at him. 

"Hola, Rogi," Rafa said timidly with a smile, the Spanish accent rolling off his tongue naturally. 

Roger's heart warmed at the sight of his young lover, who was the pure embodiment of cuteness. Rafa was dresses very similar to him, with a dark blazer on top of a white shirt. His animal's ears were something he would remember the Spaniard for the rest of his life, they were tiny capibara’s ears, which were they same shade of brown as his messy locks, blending with his natural hair colour. 

"I love your ears," Roger murmured close to his real ear, leading them to a more quiet place of the party, so they could speak without shouting. 

The Spaniard chuckled, running a soft hand up and down the Swiss’ arm, stopping at his head to play for a moment with the big flat goat ears, tangling his other hand on the dark strands that curled on the back of his neck. Roger smiled, Rafa didn't smell of alcohol, meaning that he was very sober. 

"I will hate Grigor for doing this," Rafa sighed with a grin, not really meaning what he was saying. "Capibara? Me? What the similarity?"

Roger looked down, a smile forming on the corner of his lips, Rafa shoved him playfully, telling him not to answer that, since he was sure the Swiss would give a very sarcastic answer. He wrapped an arm around the younger one’s waist, pulling him close to his flushed body. He heard as Rafa's breath hitched, felt how his heart had suddenly began to beat faster under his touch. Roger leaned forward, barely brushing his lips against Rafa's, an electric touch making both shiver at the sensation. Rafa closed the distance between their lips, not caring if any of the other players saw, making Roger close his eyes to savour every piece of the Spaniard. He tangled his hand on the soft locks of brown hair, caressing gently the capibara’s ear before cupping his jaw with one hand, the other one still lost in the sea of chocolate hair. Rafa gasped in their kiss, parting his lips to let Roger's hungry tongue explore the inside of his mouth, tasting the same things Rafa had tasted. The younger man pressed their chest even closer, a hand on Roger's back, a constant reminder of the Spaniard’s strength. They clung to each other as if their life was depending on it, as if the sun would not ride tomorrow, as if this was just a game of survival. 

Maybe they were like animals, having as an only instinct their survival...but the difference between those animals and these two, was that in order to survive, they knew that the only thing in the world they needed, was each other's love. And that was enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only 21 chapters left to go! And as High School Musical once said, we're all in this together! So feel free, as I always say, to comment and leave kudos! Don't forget to share with your friends!!! Love ya all! <3


	10. Day 10 "Morning Routine"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys!! I'M SO SORRY FOR LEAVING YOU WITHOUT CHAPTERS FOR ALMOST THREE DAYS!!! I HAD SO MUCH WORK TO DO, AND MY EXAMS, AND PROJECTS, IT WAS TOO MUCH!!! Leaving my drama apart, here's another chapter, 10th to be exacts! Enjoy it!!!

Normally, they wouldn't be able to do this. 

Normally, they wouldn't be able to share any moments in each other's company. But, this was not the case today, as the two of them were once again finally reunited under the same roof. 

The room was dark, the only light coming from the bathroom, with a little bit of sunlight streaming through the closed blinds that shielded both lovers from the real world. The bed was messy, part of the sheets on the floor while the other was wrapped around the lovers’ naked bodies. The air was thick and hot, probably caused by the humid and warm weather of the day. 

One of them shifted under their partner's arms, waking up because of the heat he felt surrounding him. The young lover sighed contently, remembering whose strong arms he had around him, pulling him tightly and protectively by the waist. He turned around, careful not to wake up the older man, to see his lover's face. He looked beautiful when he was awake, and when he was asleep, he looked even more astonishing and breath-taking. He lifted a hand and began caressing his cheek, that strong and always set jaw he presented to everyone. He left his face and went to his hair, those gorgeous brown strands that bordered on black in the dim room. The Spaniard combed the hair with his fingers, pushing away the locks that had fallen on his eyes. The Swiss opened an eye, peeking at the Spanish man in front of him. He smiled, closing his eyes and snuggled closer, puting his head on his lover's chest so he could continue his ministrations with his hair. 

"We are up early," Rafa said in a hushed voice, trying not to disturb the peaceful atmosphere they had created. 

Roger hummed in acknowledgement, throwing a leg on top of Rafa’s, trapping him. "We should get up?" He slurred, still drowsy from sleep. 

Rafa chuckled quietly, loving how Roger was when he woke up in the morning. He untangled his hands from the Swiss’ hair and put both on his chest, pushing a little. "I gonna take bath, wanna wash this dirt off me," he said giving Roger a swift kiss on the cheek before pushing himself off the bed and leaving the heat that his lover radiated. 

"Can I join?" The Swiss asked cockily, propping himself on one elbow, watching how Rafa walked around the room stark naked looking for some clean clothes to wear for the day. 

The Spaniard looked behind his shoulder, as he rummaged through a dresser searching for clean underwear, and shot the older man a half amused, half serious look. "I want to clean myself, Rogi. If you come, promise we'll just wash." He pointed an accusing finger at Roger, who lifted his hands in sign of innocence, as Rafa threw him a fluffy towel. 

They showered together, Roger sticking to his promise and not trying anything. They washed each others bodies, marveling at the sight of them, even though they had seen them countless times before. After getting out of the bathroom, fresh and clean, they put on clothes to lounge in the house for the day, since none of them had any plans for the evening. 

"I go make breakfast, sí?" Rafa said, grabbing his phone and waiting for Roger to come down with him. 

"Can I help? At all?" Roger asked as soon as they reached the kitchen. 

Everyone knew Rafa was a great cook, Roger could admit that, but he himself wasn't a bad chef either, he could make some decent dishes. The Spanish man threw him an amused grin, gently wrapping his hands around Roger's torso. "I was gonna make eggs and Iberian ham, orange juice too," he said, nuzzling his head on the crook of Roger's neck.. 

The Swiss kissed sweetly the top of his head, rubbing his hands up and down the other's back. "I can make pancakes for the both of us."

Rafa nodded, separating himself from Roger and grabbing the ingredients he needed from the fridge. Roger did the same. 

All of Rafa's ingredients were laid out neatly in front of him, maintaining a sense of order in everything he did. Meanwhile, Roger was trying to figure out how to mix the flour with the other ingredients without making too much of a mess, but failing miserably, as the countertop was soon covered in flour. 

Rafa giggled, looking at the disaster the Swiss was making. "You need help?"

Roger frowned with a smile, still mixing his batter. "No thank you. You'll soon see how good this'll taste." He smirked at Rafa, the young one shacking his head at him. 

They both cooked their things, a few moments later both meals were ready, Rafa’s eggs and ham looking pretty good, a marvelous smell coming off of them. Roger's pancakes, against all odds, were very fluffy and the Swiss had managed not to burn any of them. 

"Looks we did good job," Rafa grinned, punching Roger playfully on the shoulder and carrying their plates to the table. 

They sat in front of one another, taking bites of their food and jocking around. Roger's pancakes tasted very good, sort of buttery and sweet, the maple syrup giving them the perfect final touch. But let's not forget about Rafa, his dish was incredible, the eggs on their perfect point and the ham added that touch of saltines that complemented the dish perfectly. 

"This is good," Roger said with his mouth full of pancakes. 

Rafa smiled, nodding eagerly. "Sí, they very good, Rogi! Sorry for telling you they won't work," Rafa pouted, extending his free hand on top of the table for Roger to grab it. He placed his calloused hand on top of his, drawing soft patterns on it. 

"Don't worry, Raf. Me myself thought it wouldn't work!" Roger exclaimed, laughing alongside Rafa. 

They shared the rest of the short morning like this, being dorky around each other, slumped on the sofa, and most importantly, sharing each other's company.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End of this chapter! If it was a little bit short, know that it was because I had no more ideas for that prompt. If you have any feedback, feel free to leave a constructive comment in the comment section! As always, hope you enjoyed it, leave kudos and share!


	11. Day 11 "Hanging out with Friends"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hellooooooo! Chapter 11 here! I'm so glad you're enjoying this story!

Roger was nervous. 

It wasn't usual that the well composed Swiss lost his grip and let his mind make him nervous about something. Normally he would be a little bit nervous before a Grand Slam final, or the time he had asked Rafa out, or the first time they had kissed, or when he told Mirka about it, or when he and Rafa had told both of their teams ’bout their relationship. No, those nerves we're normal, expected, really. But being nervous about spending some time with your boyfriend's friends amd teammates was not a real reason to be this nervous. 

Rafa had convinced him to go join him and his Spanish friends in the house they were renting in London. Apparently, they wanted to play videogames and chit chat with his Spaniard. And you know Roger, he couldn't resist to his lover's manipulative, deep brown puppy eyes that made him want to crush the younger man in an embrace and never let him go. He agreed to go with him, and now, after realizing that they were going to leave the house in about an hour, he began having second thoughts. 

"Should I dress nice?" He thought. "Or go in a simple shirt and jeans?" 

Roger had just got out from the shower, white towel still wrapped around his wait, and hair dripping with water, when he began having a crisis over deciding what to wear for tonight. Fortunately for him, a pair of strong arms wrapped around his waist, placing a gentle kiss on his neck, smelling his after shower scent. 

"Something wrong, Rogi?" He ran a hand through his damp hair. "You no need to dress fancy, we just gonna play games and chat, no?" He made Roger turn to face him. 

Looking into the older man’s eyes, those dark halos that always seemed to spark with confidence, grace, and elegance, were now dim, clouded with doubt and fear of rejection. All of the Spanish team knew already about Roger's and Rafa’s relationship, they had told them long time ago. They accepted them as they were, never have they excluded Rafa from any of their activities because of that matter, but also they have never spent time talking with Roger, and Rafa knew that the Swiss was scared of the rejection he could face. The Spaniard knew his teammates wouldn't reject Roger, they had supported him, why would they kick out his other half? There was nothing to worry about, but still, he tried to reassure his partner about that. 

"No be scared, Rogi," he whispered so only the two of them could hear, even though they were alone in the house. "They going to love you as much as I do." His thumb caressed his cheek, outlining his strong jaw. Rafa smiled lovingly. 

The Swiss returned the smile, "As much as you do?" he joked, teasingly. 

Rafa grinned, happy to have eased away some of the tension the Swiss was feeling. He twirled a damp curl between his fingers,"No, I love you more than them." Rafa kissed Roger, feeling how the other man visibly relaxed by it. The soft touch of their mouths finished quicker than they had expected it to last, but they had to finish getting ready. 

"Put shirt and jeans, that is fine,"Rafa said before giving him a final kiss on the lips and leaving his lover's side to go find his stuff to leave. 

After fifteen minutes, both Roger and Rafa were ready to leave. Rafa was wearing a soft t-shirt that had acquiered that touch after being washed too many times, and black jeans that hug his legs in the most delightful way. Roger, after rigorously examining all his clothing options and leaving their room a complete utter mess, he went with a long sleeved, navy blue shirt, washed jeans, and a black jacket to cover him from the cold British air. 

They arrived a couple of minutes later at the house, the streets mostly empty because of the late hour. Rafa rang the doorbell, giving the Swiss a final reassuring smile before the door was opened. In front of them, Feliciano López was standing, a huge grin on his face. 

"Rafito! Roger! Glad you finally arrived!" He greeted them both animatedly. "Come in in! We were going to start playing," Feli motioned them to come in, closing the door behind them. 

Roger had to admit that the welcome was warm, let's see what the night will bring. 

As soon as he stepped inside, his ears were filled with noise coming from the living room, loud cursing and chattering in Spanish that he didn't understand at all. Everyone was there, Feliciano, David Ferrer, Carlos Moya, and Fernando Verdasco. Actually, they weren't a lot of people. 

"Come Roger! Sit with us, we gonna start playing!" Verdasco said, patting the empty space in the sofa in front of the TV. 

Roger obliges, sitting between David and Verdasco. Rafa is sat next to Carlos, chatting amicably with him and Feli in Spanish, the language spilling out of his mouth fluently. They began playing FIFA, Roger loosing miserably against the two Spaniards. 

"Dejad que el pobre gane uno, hombre!" Carlos says, referring to Roger, even though the Swiss doesn't understand. They all laugh, except Roger who doesn't get what they're laughing at. 

"What's so funny?" He asks Rafa. "He said to let you win one game,"Rafa said as he chuckled, pecking the Swiss on the cheek. 

Everyone wolf-whistles at the couple, Roger blushing deeply and Rafa telling them to fuck off with a smile. 

"Roger! You don't know how hard we had to try not to punch Rafael in the face before you confessed your undying love for him," Feli joked after everyone has calmed down. 

The other Spaniards agreed, Rafa cursing them under his breath. 

"The way he looked at you after every match! Tio, we were so done with all the puppy eyes shit!"David added, punching Rafa playfully in the shoulder. 

"I think you stop embarrassing me, guys. Roger don't need to know my crush on him," Rafa chuckled, a faint blush on his cheeks. 

Roger smiled, he liked how the other players talked about this, they weren't rejecting either of them, and he was fucking happy about that. Plus he got to know Rafa's secret admiration for him, no?

"Guys! You're forgetting the time he made us watch Roger's final with him! He wasn't watching the game, but this Swiss here!" Carlos chirped in, making all of them laugh and Rafa flush a deeper shade of red, if that was even possible. 

"I never bring Roger ever again, you bully me!" Rafa cried, doubling in laughter. 

Roger laughed to, alongside the Spaniards. There was no need to be nervous, these people were like brothers to Rafa, and Rafa cared about them as much as they cared for Rafa. And if Rafa cared for them, then Roger cared for them too. 

The rest of the night was.... let's just say that it ended with Roger knowing Rafa's most embarrassing secrets and Rafa’s face going through all the colour palate of reds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 11 done! Hope you liked it, kudos and comments are GREATLY appreciated! Come read chapter 12 next, until then bye bye!


	12. Day 12 "In battle pt.1"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guyssssssss!!!! Chapter 12 is here! And just so you know, we've reached 10000 words!!! I'm so fuckin Happy I might explode! More fedal in this one, but this chapter is split in two, making 12 and 13 in the same timeline. Hope you enjoy this as usual, and with that said, adiós!

Roland Garros, French Open -2019, Finals

They both had made it this far without great trouble. Although, for Rafa, the French never caused too much trouble, it was his favorite surface, after all. 

It was amazing that he and Roger were able to play against each other again. It had been a very long time since they had faced each other at a final, a Grand Slam final to be precise. It was the most incredible feeling of all, being able to share this with Roger on the other side of the net. 

The match was long from starting, about 3 long hours, more if the rain continued to whip the earth with such force, making it impossible to play. 

Rafa was sitting in the locker room, completely alone since his team had left him to meditate or whatever helped him destress before the match ahead. He was checking his phone, scrolling aimlessly through old pictures on his camera roll, smiling nostalgically at the memories they brought back. 

He was snapped out of his thoughts as a heavy bag was left on the floor beside him. Rafa looked up, wanting to know the person who pulled him out of his moment. 

Roger was looking down at Rafa, a soft smile on his lips, his hair messy but combed at the same time, tennis outfit already on his body, and a water bottle on one hand. "Hey Raf," he whispered, pulling the Spaniard up and kissing him deeply. 

The younger man let out a sound of surprise, but quickly kissing back with the same passion and care the Swiss was putting in their kiss. He interlaced his fingers in Roger's hair, playing with the strands that curled on the back of his neck. They broke apart after a couple of moments, keeping their foreheads touching. 

"What you doing here?" Rafa asked, still trying to catch his breath. 

Roger chuckled, pressing his face against the curvature of Rafa's neck, breathing in the clean scent of the other player. "I wanted to be with you before the match," he explained, his hand drawing circles in his back. 

Rafa smiled lovingly, he kissed Roger's temple and stepped aside. "I was checking my phone, found some pictures." He made a gesture at his abandoned phone on the beach he had been sitting on. 

Roger raised a curious eyebrow, a grin creeping on his face. "Can I see? Maybe I'll find one in which you look bad," he joked, pecking the other man on the cheek. "But I know I wouldn't find one since you look perfect in every picture," he said cheekily as he sat down next to Rafa on the bench. 

The Spaniard laughed, shoving Roger playfully to the side. "You an idiot, Rogelio! Now I no show you the pictures!" Rafa punctuated, seemingly resentful but Roger knew he was just teasing him. 

Roger pouted, spreading kisses along Rafa's jaw. "Aw, baby I was just joking! Please let me see the photos?" he asked, sending Rafa his best attempt at puppy eyes. 

The Spanish man snorted, amused by how Roger looked. He agreed, unlocking his phone and going to his camera roll again. There appeared a variety of pictures, of many different people, places, foods,animals even! But some of them were of Roger and Rafa, just the two of them. The two of them sharing a romantic dinner in a dark booth in a restaurant in Shanghai, a selfie of both of them on Rafa's yacht, sailing the beautiful Mallorcan sea, a picture of Roger sleeping tightly in Rafa's bed, his hair disheveled and cute, one of both of their hands intertwined, a photo of Rafa skiing on the Swiss Alps, his pink cheeks making him look cuter than he already was. These photographs showed how their love and relationship had developed, how they had been able to surpass all the obstacles life had put on their way, how, with both of them side by side, they could conquer the world. 

Rafa hadn't realized he was crying until he felt Roger's strong arms around his waist, and saw how a tear had made its way to the phone, wetting the screen that had a picture of both of them kissing. 

"Shhh, it's okay baby, everything's fine,"Roger cooded, rubbing a hand up and down Rafa's back, placing tender kisses on his cheek. 

Rafa hugged him, burying his face in the crook of Roger's neck, sobbing on the Swiss’ shoulder, wetting the soft material of his t-shirt. He cried for a few minutes, the nostalgia too strong to stop the feelings he was feeling. Roger never stopped comforting him, not even when he started to grab fistfuls of his shirt. 

"I love you so much, Rogi," Rafa mumbled, voice still trembling from his crying. 

Roger's heart almost melted at the Spaniard’s statement, looking at Rafa in his eyes before giving him the sweetest of kisses you could ever imagine anyone giving. 

"Don't ever dare think that I love you any less than you do, Rafa. Because I fucking love you, I would give you my heart if it wouldn't imply that I would die," Roger murmured close to the younger one's ear, kissing his cheek one last time. 

Rafa smiled and chuckled, cleaning the tears that were still in his eyes. "Now I a mess before important match." He laughed, punching Roger softly on the shoulder. 

Roger grinned, happy to have spent this time with Rafa before the great final they had in front of them. "I'll leave you to talk with your team then," he finished, tousling the mop of brown hairs Rafa still got loose. 

"Roger!" Rafa walked towards Roger who was close to leaving the locker room. He wrapped his hands around him and hugged him tightly. 

"Good luck later," he whispered against his neck. "I love you."

Roger smiled against Rafa's hair, "Good luck too,love. I'll love you the same, no matter the results."

With that he left the lockers, a warm feeling spreading through his chest. This was going to be a hell great of a final.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WUWUWUWU, end of chapter 12! As always comments and kudos are immensely appreciated, see you tomorrow guys! I fucking love you!!! <3


	13. Day 13 "In Battle pt 2"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm soooooo tired of school!!! Here's another chapter, hope you enjoy it, my life's a mess, here's some fedal!

After Roger had left the locker room, Rafa had called his team. 

Carlos, Francis, and all of his team came within two minutes of being called. 

"Rafa! Are you ready?!" Carlos asked excitedly, patting the young Spaniard on the back. 

Rafa smiled, remembering the sweet conversation he had shared with Roger moments ago. "Sí, Carlos. Let's do this!" Rafa exclaimed, jumping from where he was sitting on. 

Everyone cheered, this was going to be an amazing final. 

***

The rain has stopped pouring a long time ago, the court was already dry, ready to be played on. He met with Roger at the doors that led to the court, he could hear the people's roaring from there. Roger shot him a soft smile, the Spaniard grinned back. The deep voice that announced the players sounded, snapping Rafa out of his moment and remembering him to concentrate. 

"Ladies and Gentlemen, here is, defending champion, Rafael Nadal!" Rafa went through the doors, bag on his shoulder, hand waving and greeting the public that had came to see this great match. As he was leaving his bag on the bench, the announcer presented Roger. 

"And here, world number 2, known as Greatest of All Times, Roger Federer!" The public broke into applauses, cheering loudly. Roger acknowledged them, waving too. 

They took the respective photos, greeting the important people and smiling in front of the camera. 

Soon he found himself warming up, exchanging shots with Roger, practicing his serve and forehands. The umpire signaled the start of the match. Roger had first serve. 

Rafa stood behind the line, awaiting the strong shot to arrive. It came strong, fast, but Rafa answered it, putting all his passion and strength in it. 

They continued playing, the match was going on greatly, balls were passing between them back and forth, never quite wanting to get out of the court into out. The first set was over, Rafa leaded 7-5. He was sweating, the humid Parisian air almost drowning him. 

He steeped of the court, without touching any of the lines of course, and sat down on his chair. Rafa grabbed his bottles and drank small sips of both, thanking for the refreshing liquid that extinguished his burning throat. He ran a hand through his hair, taking it off his eyes. The rest was over too soon, second set started. 

Rafa won the second again, 6-3. Roger won the third, 7(7)-6(3). 

Final set, score 5-3, 40-30, one point and he would win. Rafa served, he inhaled, the world slowing down, the bounce of the ball soft against the clay, he exhaled, throwing the ball high, serving it. Roger hit back, it flew to the net, Rafa threw himself to the floor, his hands on his face, crying from happiness. This was his twelfth title. 

The crowded cheered, happy to see their champion win again. Rafa stood up quickly, going to the net to congratulate Roger on a match well played. Roger was waiting at the net, a smile on his face even though he had just lost. He hugged Roger, a full hug, nuzzling his head on the sweaty curve of Roger's neck. The crowded gasped, not knowing how to react at what they were seeing, Roger tensed for a moment, but relaxed soon after, hugging Rafa tightly back. "You played amazing Raf,"he murmured. 

Rafa smiled at him, tears threatening to come out of his eyes. "I wish ties existed in tennis,"Rafa replied. 

He stepped back from the hug, shook hands with the umpire and went to cheer with the crowd. He lifted his arms, thrusting them to the air, happy to have won this tournament, grateful to his knees to have let him play without pain. 

He went to his chair, changing his sweaty shirt before the ceremony. 

It began moments after, Roger talked first, congratulating Rafa for the match, telling the world how amazing it was to play against that beautiful and incredible man. All were silent after what Roger had said. He had just called his rival, Rafael Nadal, the man he had just lost to, beautiful. Rafa’s breath hitched, Roger smiled back at him, urging him to come over and give his speech. 

"Um, hi. As Roger said, or as you probably tell, we in a relationship..." The public gasped. "I love this man very much, and playing against him is the most amazing feeling I could ever experience. I want to congratulate him for this, for fighting, and if draws existed in tennis, I would share this with Rogelio." He grabbed Roger by the neck and kissed him in front of thousands of people, not caring at all about anything. 

He and Roger had talked about coming out, so it felt natural to do it in this intense moment. 

He parted, smiling at Roger and at the cameras. He received the Couple des Mousquetaires with Roger in one arm. He lifted the trophy, not knowing which one he was more grateful for. 

He knew the answer, no trophy would ever mean more than Roger. No matter what that trophy was, he would choose Roger over and over again. And now that their love was public,there was no more need to hide, they could just be them and that was the most amazing reward he could ever wish for.


	14. Day 14 "Cooking/Baking"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for not updating, it's really hard to keep on track with school bugging you. But I've managed to bring you another one, I think it might be a little short, but it's all I can give. As always enjoy!

Roger was great cook. 

Well, besides Rafa he was a terrible chef, but on his own, he could defend himself with a couple of dishes. 

That's why, he and Rafa, had created a competition. A cooking competition to be precise. And Roger was already predicting his loss against the Spaniard. 

Rafa was an incredible cook. 

The younger one knew this, and maybe he was confident he would have a clear advantage over Roger. 

The competition was bound to take place in Rafa's kitchen, all the things they needed were on display on the countertop, from the food they were going to use, to the utensils they're going to use. The dish they were about to prepare, or try to, was "Basler Mehlsuppe". It was a Swiss dish that Rafa had chosen to be their challenge for today, since Roger was obviously Swiss. 

"This no seem complicated," said Rafa as he strolled down the to the kitchen were Roger was already awaiting. 

Roger looked up from the piece of paper he was reading behind the counter, probably the recipe. He was wearing an apron, and ,to Rafa, looked damn good. 

"My mother once made that soup, but I've never tried cooking it myself," Roger answered with a smile, circling the table to go hug the other man. 

Rafa smiled softly as Roger circled his body with his arms, making Rafa snuggle his head on his chest. Roger buried his nose in the Spaniard’s hair, smelling the sweet scent he radiated. "We supposed to be competitive, no too much love till we have dishes." Rafa parted from the hug with a sheepish smirk. 

Roger rolled his eyes playfully, giving Rafa a last peck on the cheek before going behind the counter and preparing his things. 

"No help from the other is...." The Spaniard struggled with the word. "How you say? Per-perm..." He cocked his head to the side. 

"Permitted, Raf," Roger added, chuckling softly at his boyfriend's bad english vocabulary. To be fair, his Spanish was more terrible than Rafa’s english.

The Spanish man snorted,"Sí, that. We both have our papers, and no more help, ok Rogelio?" Rafa eyed the Swiss with amusement. 

Roger nodded, wanting this challenge to begin for good. After Rafa had put on a white apron to protect his clothes if he spilled something, he gave them the sign to begin. 

Rafa began with the flour, since it was what the dish was mostly made of, and put it in a pan to brown the flour and then add the butter. He waited some moments to add to butter, looking at Roger for a quick second. Roger had put first the butter and was adding now the flour, probably was going to brown the flour with the butter. When Rafa returned to see his pan, the flour was burning. 

"Mierda!" He cursed loudly, taking the pan by the handle and dropping it in the sink, opening the tap. 

Roger turned around, worried about Rafa when he heard the loud curse he had made. 

"Baby, are you hurt?" He asked tenderly, concern in his eyes. 

Rafa shook his head, still pissed off at the burnt flour and pan. "No, only my dish is hurt. Now you gonna ace this, and I loose," he pouted, running a hand through his hair. 

Roger smiled sideways sweetly,"Oh, Rafa. I don't care about the competition. I just wanted to spend some fun time together doing this." He motioned to his still not burnt and cooking pan. "If you want we can cook this together,"he said, grabbing a tender hold of Rafa’s jaw and caressing it softly with his thumb. 

Rafa leaned into the touch, felling himself relax by just the presence of the Swiss. 

"You right, let's cook this dish, Rogi!"

They began cooking together, since the flour had already browned, Rafa added the garlic and Roger the onion. Both players whisked together, hand in hand. Then came the red wine, adding the soup a perfect touch and flavour. And then the soup was done. Actually, Roger thought, that was not so difficult neither hard to bake. 

The served two bowls, topping it with grated cheese and to drink they served two glasses of red wine. Sitting side by side, they took the first taste of their soup. 

"This is so good," Rafa practically moaned as he took the second sip of it. 

Roger chuckled, he himself nodding in approval. The soup was really good, there was no denying it. "Yes! Go Swiss food!" Roger cheered with his spoon in the air. 

Rafa shoved him playfully, another spoonful already in his mouth. Maybe, Rafa thought, he was an excellent cook, but, just like with tennis, they were mistakes that were made and the best option then, was to learn from the mistakes that you've made and try to learn from them. 

He put his head on Roger's shoulder, the Swiss planted a kiss on the top of it. 

"We should cook together more often."

"Sí, we should."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another day finished. Tomorrow (hopefully) chapter 15 in the same place, probably not at the same hour! Bye bye!!


	15. Day 15 "Making out"

They hadn't seen each other for almost six months. 

Apart from phone calls, texts, and Skype, there had been no personal contact between them. No little touches or sneaky kisses... nothing. So when the time came and they finally got to see one another in person, they didn't miss a second. 

They were going to meet at Roger's hotel room, since the Swiss had booked it first than Rafa, plus it was a lot nicer. 

"I can't wait ;)" The Spaniard texted as he made his way to the hotel by feet. It wasn't too far away from where he was staying, and the fresh air would cool his thoughts. 

Ding!

A text arrived, Roger's. He opened it. 

"Me neither ;) xx"

Rafa giggled quietly, duking his head in order to not be recognized by the people walking past him, a warm, fuzzy feeling spreading through his body. 

After walking a good ten minutes, he finally arrived at Roger's hotel, and it was too damn fancy. I mean, Roger was staying in it, they had to be at his level of awesomeness. He smiled, entering the building and avoiding completely the nice receptionist who seemed to want to offer him a spa day? No thank you, this young man had better things to do. 

He got on the elevator, pressing the floor the Swiss had told him his room was in, the 12th. Unfortunately for him, the elevator stopped midway, floor 6th, and an old woman got in. Rafa smiled, his manners showing as he greeted the lady. She smiled back, but she stopped abruptly when she realized who he was. 

"You-You’re Rafael Nadal!" The woman almost had a heart attack. 

"Mierda," thought Rafa, so much for being indiscreet. 

He grinned, "Sí! Hello."

She fumbled with her purse, trying to take something out of it, seconds later, a pen and a piece of paper were shoved in his arms. 

"Could you please sign this!? My daughter is a huge fan!"

Rafa nodded, smile not faltering, but his mind longing to be by Roger's side. 

He sign the lady her papers and the elevator just dinged, signaling that he had, finally, arrived at the floor. 

The Spaniard said goodbye to the lady, who still seemed she might pass out, and stepped out, the metallic doors closing behind him. He smiled, for like the fifteen time. Rafa stood in front of Roger's door, 1203. He softly knocked, not wanting to disturb any other people that might be resting. 

The door opened not even 5 seconds later, a smiley Roger on the other side. The Swiss stepped to the side, Rafa entering the room. The door closed, the room now their private place, their little bubble for the night. 

"I've missed you so much, Raf," Roger whispered, pulling Rafa close to his body, resisting the urge to devour his mouth. 

Rafa rested his forehead on Roger's, the air between them heavy and thick with impatience. "I more Rogi."

He closed the distance, pressing his lips against Roger's, savouring the strong taste of the Swiss’ mouth. Roger put his hand on the curve of Rafa's spine, pressing their bodies impossible close, as if wanting to become one being. The Spaniard’s hand was tangled in the older man’s hair, gently tugging the dark strands. Rafa opened his mouth, letting Roger's tongue wander inside his mouth. He moaned at a feeling he had not felt for almost half a year, the gentle but rough hands that caressed his sides, sometimes wandering low to unmentionable places. 

Rafa broke their sloppy kiss, gasping for air, a string of saliva still uniting them. Roger laughed, liking his lips. He grabbed Rafa's hand and led him to the master bedroom. 

A huge bed was in the middle of the room, fresh, white, hotel sheets glistening under the soft light of the lamp on the bedside table. Roger sat on the bed, his back pressed against the headboard. Rafa took the hint and straddled him, sitting on his lap. 

"I love you so much baby." Roger said, removing the locks of brown hair that had fallen on the younger one's face. 

Rafa smiled softly, caressing with one hand Roger's cheek. He kissed his nose, playing before kissing his lips again. 

Rafa's tongue was demanding, wanting to lead their kiss, but he knew that Roger was in control of it, even if he was the one on top of him. Rafa grounded his hips, making the older man groan, his hand resting on the curve of Rafa's ass, wanting to wander lower. He did, pulling the other one closer to him, making their groins grind. He tugged at the soft shirt Rafa was wearing, wanting him to take it off. He broke apart from it, removing his shirt quickly, wanting to return to kiss that sinful mouth. Roger kissed his neck, trailing a path of kisses to his pink nipples, kissing both of them. 

"Rogi..." Rafa whimpered, biting his lips. 

Roger smirked, hot kisses burning the Spaniard’s chest. Roger took of his shirt, the heat he was feeling now unbearable. He hugged their bodies together, warm bodies against each others. Touches leaving burnt paths that led to sin. Hurricanes happening in between them, leaving everything destroyed behind them. 

This is a crazy love, and nothing would ever kill it.


	16. Day 16 "Dancing"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUYS IM SO SO SO SO SORRY FOR LEAVING YOU WITHOUT CHAPTERS FOR OVER THREE DAYS!!!! I WAS SICK ALL WEEKEND AND WRITING WAS IMPOSSIBLE! HERE IS ANOTHER CHAPTER FOT YOU! HOPE YOU ENJOY AND FORGIVE ME!

"Rafa! Dance with me!" Roger shouted over the loud music that was been played. 

They were at a bar, more than a bar this was a party. It was the birthday of someone Roger couldn't really remember. Maybe it was Novak's? No, that was in May. Tsitsipas? That happened in August. Oh yeah! It was Feliciano’s! That's why he was here! Because of Lopez's birthday. 

It was a nice party, he had to admit, with nice people and good drinks. Maybe he had had a couple of them? A couple of drinks that he normally wouldn't dream to drink. But it was a special occasion, wasn't it? One of Rafa's friends, one of his boyfriend's friend, was turning of age! It was normal that he would be here. Tennis life didn't offer a chance to get drunk, really. With all the tournaments and anti-doping stuff players went through, getting drunk was not a very good idea. Often, after a great final win, he would celebrate a little with his team, Mirka, even spend some time with Rafa. That's why he was probably not pretty strong at handling his alcohol consumption, so when he had his third, or was it forth?, shot of Vodka, he could really feel the effects of it in his body. 

"Rogiiiii! We both drunk! No good idea if we begin dancing...." Rafa slurred from where he was sitting at the bar. 

If Roger was bad at handling his drinks, then Rafa was a super lightweight. The guy drank one drink and he was wasted. No tolerance for alcohol. In part that was good, cause it meant that Rafa never really got drunk, but when he did, he turned from the Rafa you knew to a completely different Rafa. All the bashfulness that lied inside of that sweet soul was soon erased by a new source of boldness. Roger liked both of those Rafa's, more the timid one since that was who he really was, the bold one was fun to watch, but he never had the experience to share his drunkenness with him. But, as they say, there's a first time for everything, right?

"Come on, baby! We never danceeee!" Roger pouted as he grabbed Rafa's hand and dragged him up from his chair, close to his sweaty body. 

Rafa buried his nose in Roger's neck, breathing in the sweet scent of Roger mixed with a tinge of alcohol and sweat that the Spaniard found intoxicating. "Hmmm, you smell nice..."

Roger giggled, cradling the younger man in his arms. "Must be the pheromones, right? Do you free pheromones when you're drunk?" He looked seriously at Rafa. 

The Spanish man chuckled, burying his head more into his lover's chest, glad that everyone else at this party was as drunk as him to not notice the over friendly way he acted with Roger. "I no think so," he giggled too, his accent heavy on his tongue, too confused to try to stress each word correctly. 

Roger parted from Rafa a bit, just enough to watch him full body, not just his face. The music was still blasting from the speakers, but it had turned from annoying electric undanceable music to a very nice song he had never heard of. Rafa's face lit up, his eyes shimmering with something other than drunkenness. 

"This song! It Spain! I know this song!" Rafa squealed, excitement pouring out of his bad formed sentence. 

Rafa grabbed Roger's hand, interlacing their fingers as he moved from one side to another with the rhythm of a Spanish guitar? It was indeed a Spanish song that apparently Rafa knew all too well since he began singing, badly, the lyrics. It was a type of Flamenco? Yeah, maybe. The song itself was really good, but Roger had a hard time trying to follow Rafa, accustomed to this type of music that he carried the rhythm in his veins! The Spaniards in this party were howling the lyrics, dancing like madmen, twirling and turning with every change of the music. Spanish wasn't his best language, hell he barely could understand the basics, but he could make out one of the words that kept repeating itself: "Bamboleo".

"Hey, is the song named "Bamboleo"?" he asked a dancing Rafa with a smile.

Rafa's grin widened, happy to know that his boyfriend was appreciating this spectacular song. "Sí! We sing and dance, no?" Rafa said as he clapped with the other guests, following the music. Rafa extended his hand, gesturing Roger to take it. He obliged, not knowing if it was the alcohol or the curiosity of what would Rafa do that made him clasp their hands together. The Spaniard led him deepest into the dance floor, neon lights shining above his head, and sweaty and drunk people dancing their way around. He chuckled lightly at that, he was about to become one of those people.

"Ese amor llega asi de esta manera  
No tiene la culpa  
Caballo de danza vana  
Porque es muy despreciado por eso  
No te perdona llorar"

The song kept saying but he didn't get it, at all. He shrugged that feeling off, wanting to enjoy this song with Rafa. The young one twirled around Roger, clapping his hands to the sound of the music. The Swiss began moving his shoulders, trying to get some of the rhythms inside him. That seemed to work since Rafa shot him an amazed smile and leaned towards him, moving his hands, upper body, and feet in perfect harmony.

"Ese amor llega asi esta manera  
No tiene la culpa  
Amor de compra y venta  
Amor de en el pasado"

The music stopped for a second, then the chorus arrived.

"Bamboleo bambolea porque mi vida yo la prefiero vivir así. Bamboleo bambolea porque mi vida yo la prefiero vivir así!" Rafa sang with all his air, almost falling as he did.

Roger caught him in the most cheesy way you could ever imagine, princess in a ball kind of style. The only difference with that was that none of them were princesses, and they were ass-drunk. Roger snorted, Rafa, burst in giggles as they recovered their "normal" composure. Sadly, the song ended and so did the party. Because they were responsible adults, they returned to their hotel walking under the dark Spanish sky, giggling alongside each other over anything that crossed their minds.

"What-What did the song meant?" Roger managed to ask between laughs, remembering how hard Rafa had sung it. The Spaniard flushed a soft shade of red that could be easily blamed on the alcohol, but Roger knew better.

"It-It say "This love arrives like this in this way, vain dance horse because he's so despised for that he doesn't forgive your crying"," Rafa badly translated, struggling with having to translate something to English in his current state of mind.

Roger smiled, glad to know what those crazy Spaniards had been singing about.

"Come on, let's take you to bed," Roger said as he opened the door of their suite and carried a clinging, almost asleep, Rafa to the comfortable bed and softly put him down, taking off his shirt, pants, and shoes, leaving him in soft underwear. He undressed too, too tired to fold his clothes in a neat pile, opting to leave them strewn across the room. Roger then softly climbed up the bed, cuddling under covers with Rafa, wrapping his arms across his younger lover's belly, pulling him close to his body.

Rafa hummed in comfort, snuggling closer, searching the heat the older man provided. "Te quiero, Rogi," Rafa mumbled, voice grave with sleep and husky with alcohol. Roger kissed the back of his neck. "I love you too Raf, more than you could possibly imagine."

With that both lovers drowsed off, falling in the arms of Morpheo. It had been a good night, one that both of them would probably remember tomorrow with a headache and a sore body, but with sappy smiles on their faces. It really had been a good night indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another one ends! The song that was playing was this one: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0x61YvjwJCM  
> as always comments, feedback, and kudos are greatly appreciated. See ya!


	17. Day 17 "In Formal Wear"

During important events it was crucial that you dressed to impress, that was the rule. 

Rafa knew this very well, with all the player’s parties he had attended, or the ceremonies for something, or when he inaugurated his academy for the first time. Those were times were you had to dress nice. Very nice. 

The Spaniard knew that for his lover, dressing pretty was not difficult nor hard. The thing was that the Swiss looked dashing every time he wore any kind of suit. So when the time came and they had to dress up for one of Rafa's cousin’s wedding, the Spaniard was left quite speechless. 

Roger was wearing a black blazer on top of a crisp white shirt, a matching black bowtie resting on the neck. His dark dress pants were perfectly ironed, hugging his legs in the most delightful way possible. Dark brown hair was combed back in an espectacular way, not a single strand of hair falling on his eyes, shadowing those clear brown eyes that sometimes bordered on hazel. 

Rafa remembered he had to breath as Roger made his way down the stairs, coming down to join Rafa at the living room. 

"Rogi..."Rafa whispered, blown away by his lover's looks. 

Roger smiled, a confident smile that only added more to his already perfectly perfect outfit. He put his hands in his pockets as he turned around fro Rafa to appreciate the full suit. 

"What do you think? Is this good?" He asked, smoothing the fabric with his hands. 

Rafa almost laughed, a soft chuckled managed to escape his lips. "You look beautiful, Rogelio. I now feel no dressed enough,"Rafa said as he walked towards the Swiss, wrapping his hands around the older man’s neck and looking deep inside those clear eyes. 

Roger's eyes widened, a soft smile creeping on his face. "Oh, Rafa. Baby you look amazing, I can't believe you're this beautiful." Roger whispered, his thumb caressing his jaw, lingering on his cheek. He kissed his nose, a quick peck that symbolized part of the love he felt for the younger man. 

Rafa looked relieved, knowing that his boyfriend thought he was dressed as nice as he was was all the reassurance he needed for this event. The Spaniard was dressed, in fact, very similar to the Swiss, with only a long time as the only variant between their outfits. That and that he still hadn't combed his loose brown curls that still hung loose on the back of his head. Roger grabbed the comb that Rafa had left on the table when he saw Roger coming down, turning Rafa around in order to comb his hair. 

Roger passed the comb through Rafa's damp hair, careful not to pull too hard and hurt his young lover. Rafa hummed, leaning towards the nice feeling of the Swiss combing lightly his locks. Few moments later and they were done. Suits in perfect condition, hairs styled correctly, and eagerness at its max. 

"Shall we go, Mr.Nadal?" Roger teased, extending his arm for Rafa to take it. 

Rafa shook his head, a grin spreading through his face. "Of course, Mr.Federer." He took hold of Roger's arm, his own below his, interlacing their arms. 

Like that they walked through the moon lit night, in formal clothes, and with the love that only two lovebirds could ever give off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 17 here! I'm so excited about tomorrow's match! Rafa is playing and so is Roger! Sadly, I think I'll not be able to watch it since I'll be at school during their matches :(.   
> As always feel free to drop a comment or kudos! Bye everyone!!


	18. Day 18 "On one of their birthdays"

Rafa woke up with gentle sunlight caressing his tan skin. The soft gleam streaming through the closed blinds, pulling him out of his dreams. 

The Spaniard groaned, untangling his limbs from the grasp of the warm sheets and sitting at the edge of the bed. He smiled, not caring if it was too early to be this happy. It was his birthday and he was damn happy about that. He grabbed his phone, resting and charging on the nightstand, and unlocked it, hoping for just that message. 

Nothing. There was not a single notification on his phone, not one “Happy Birthday Raf!” or “Hope you have a great day love!” Just empty nothingness. 

His smile faltered, realizing that the Swiss hadn’t texted him. He sighed, running a hand through his messy locks, there was a chance that Roger had not yet woken up. Yes, that was a good guess, thought the Spaniard grimly. 

He left the bed, bare feet against the cool floor of his bedroom, and made his way to the bathroom with his phone on one hand, yawning. The young man stripped naked, leaving his clothes in the laundry basket for future washing, they really needed to be washed. A small smile formed on his face after the thought of previous lonely nights on those clothes with thoughts of the older man crossed his mind. 

As he was about to turn on the shower, his phone chirped, a new message had arrived. Rafa scrambled to open his phone, a grin on his lips. It soon disappeared as it was a message from Maribel, not from Roger. He knitted his eyebrows together, trying to think of a reason the Swiss hadn't called him yet. He called his sister, maybe talking to her would help.

It rang once.

It rang twice. 

She picked up the phone. Excitement pouring out of her voice. 

"Rafa! Happy birthday brother!" She exclaimed. 

Rafa chuckled, he had really missed his sister's voice. 

"Hey! Thank you!" He said, trying to sound as happy as possible. But everyone knew that he was bad at lying, more his sister, ’cause she picked up the sad tone in his voice. 

"What's wrong, Raf ? I thought you would be happy... Did I called in a bad moment? I can call later..." The rapid questions leaved Rafa speechless for a second, trying to find the right answer for each one of them.

He sighed, "No, it's just...Roger," he said in a small voice. 

"Oh Rafa... Don't tell me he hasn't called."

Rafa swallowed dry, "Sí, but he might be busy...." He tried to protect his lover from his sister's wrath. 

"Rafa, who is so busy that they forget to call their _boyfriend_ on his birthday?" She had a point. 

The Spaniard pace the bathroom, white towel on his hips. "I'll try to not think about it, Mari. Thank you for the message," He smiled. 

"Don't let this eat you, Raf. Enjoy yourself! Please try to leave the house," she teased. "Don't mention it, it is my pleasure to speak with you!"

Rafa chuckled, "Adiós, Mari!"

"Bye Rafa!!" She hung up. 

The young man left his phone by the sink, still message from Roger. He left the towel and got in the shower, turning the water cold, to help him clear his mind, and wake him up. 

After quickly showering, he got into a soft washed t-shirt and plain shorts. His stomach growled after he opened his phone for the fifth time. Rolling his eyes, he went downstairs to grab something to eat. 

Nutella on toast with orange juice, and his stomach was satisfied, sadly he couldn't say that about his heart, which hurt more and more as the hours passed. Rafa didn't do anything special that day, his parents, Mari, Toni, and most of his family and friends came to celebrate with him. He tried to enjoy himself, he really did, but without the Swiss’ presence it was very hard to do so. He felt bad for the way he was during the celebration his friends threw him, if he was honest he was not in a very euphoric mood. But at the end, the party came to an end and he found himself alone once again in this house. 

He was getting ready for bed, having already brushed his teeth, and stripped from all his clothes, except for his boxers, when the doorbell rang. He rolled his eyes, sighing exasperated at the possibility of having to face another yappy far cousin. 

Rafa went to open the door, an excuse to shut the door on their face ready on the tip of his tongue, when he fell speechless as the door revealed the person who'd knocked. 

Roger.Fucking.Federer.

The Swiss was standing at his doorstep, light jacket on, suitcase on one hand, on the other a buquet of red roses. A big, yet soft smile was on his face, making him look radiant under the moon lit sky. Rafa couldn't utter a single thing to say, all the words seemed to be stuck deep in his throat, in a dark place he couldn't reach. Roger broke the silence between them. 

"Rafa, Happ birth-" Rafa shut the door on his face, panting heavily while he pressed his back to the door, his chest rising and falling in quick motions. What on Earth was Roger doing here?! He was supposed to be in Switzerland! Not in fucking Mallorca! In fucking Spain! He took a deep breath, and opened the door to a very confused looking Roger. 

"Come in," he said as he moved from the door to let Roger in and walked to the living room. 

Roger stepped inside the house, leaving his jacket, flowers, and suitcase by the door before coming close to Rafa's semi naked body. The Spaniard put a hand on his chest, not letting him close the gap between them. 

"Explain." He simply said, crossing his arms on his chest, a serious look on his face. 

Roger sighed, "I wanted to surprise you, I took the flight early today to arrive here on time to celebrate with you, but my plane got delayed and my bag almost went to South Africa by mistake, making me later than I thought I would be. I'm sorry if you thought I had forgotten about you or your birthday, in reality I wasn't able to get you out of my head all day," he chuckled looking at Rafa with soft eyes, trying his best to apologise to his very wounded Spaniard. 

Rafa dropped his arms by his side, a gentle smile starting to appear on his lips. "I sorry for shutting the door on your face." He looked to his socked feet. "I thought about you all day long, trying to find a explanation of this, why had you not call or texted me. Mari helped a lot," he giggled, remembering the sweet words of his sister. 

Roger smiled, soon taken back as the Spaniard threw himself to his lover's arms, hugging him tightly, hands around his shoulders. The Swiss hugged back, stronger, burying his head on his lover's hair, smelling his natural odor, loving it. Rafa's head was buried on his lover's neck, leaving some kisses there too. 

Roger parted from the hug first, going to the door and picking up the flowers, he walked to Rafa with flowers on one hand. 

"I brought you these. Thought you would like them." Roger handed Rafa the flowers with a smile. The younger man sniffed the roses, a sweet scent coming off of them. He smiled, "I love them."

Roger's smile grew bigger, he grabbed Rafa by his bare waist, the skin there hot against the Swiss’ cold hands, and pulled him in for a kiss. Lips found lips and tongue found toungue, as a battle began unfolding itself between these two men. The sweet pressure of the older man’s mouth soon became strong, desire taking over both of their minds, sucking the breath out of them as they kissed and explored once again the other one's mouth with conviction, trying to make this moment last forever. 

As air was crucial to all human beings, their kiss ended, a stronger need taking over both. Their forehead remained touching, Rafa left the flowers on an empty base on the table before grabbing Roger's hand. 

"Let go to my room."

With that they ran upstairs to the master bedroom, trying to keep their hands to themselves before they reached the bedroom. 

Roger smiled at Rafa, sprawled on the bed, as he straddled him. 

"Happy birthday love." He kissed him once again, more fiercely now than before. 

Happy birthday indeed, thought Rafa before all his thoughts were replaced with thoughts of Roger.


	19. Day 19 "Doing Something Ridiculous"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!! Sorry for not posting before! As always at this time of the year school is keeping me as busy as possible, even on weekends! Here is another chapter, 19 to be precise. I'm so sad about the news that Rafa will not be playing in London this year. But it's for the best, let's hope that everything goes well for Roger. Also for Stefanos and all the next gen players playing tomorrow!  
> Without further due, the chapter!

"Roger," Rafa mumbled against the Swiss’ chest, both of them sprawled on their bed, minds clouded with tiredness. 

"Hmm?" Roger hummed with closed eyes, petting softly his lover's brown curls. 

Rafa stirred against him, "You know what be funny?" 

Roger shook his head, but soon remembered Rafa wasn't watching him. "No, what Raf?" he whispered. 

Rafa giggled quietly,"Us, naked, running." He didn't expand his statement any further. 

The Swiss made a sort of strange sound, confused by what the Spaniard was telling him. They? Naked? Running around? What the hell?

"Why has that thought crossed your mind, love?" 

Shrugging his shoulders the younger man sighed,"No know, but it be fun, no?" Roger could feel him smile against him, irradiating a sort of happiness. 

Roger sighed half-heartedly, not wanting to hurt his young lover with his answer. "Maybe, Rafa. But I know I wouldn't do it for the mere fun of it," he said the last part with a quiet chuckle. 

Rafa hummed in acknowledgement, satisfied with Roger's answer to his silly question. Maybe it was the sleepiness that had made him ask that, but you have to admit it would be funny. Two of the greatest tennis players in history, just running around somewhere, naked. Think about it. 

Both of them went to sleep with Rafa's question now resolved. 

***

It had been almost three months since that conversation had taken place. The memory of it now lost inside the two men's head, buried under different memories each one had overcome, suffered, or enjoyed. 

But now, it was time to relieve it again. 

December had arrived quickly, and before they knew it, both of them were on a plane to Australia. When I say a plane, I mean like three stops before reaching Australia. Almost 25 hours of traveling by air, plus a couple of hours waiting on land. They hadn't travelled together, that would raise too much suspicion among the press. Each had gone with their respective teams and had decided to meet in Brisbane at the hotel, since one of them would probably arrive first than the other. 

Brisbane was a 250 tournament, so there wasn't a lot of pressure on it, it was more of a preparation for the big one, the Australian Open. Both of them knew they needed the practice. 

They were seeded, which freed them from playing first round. Most of the Australian guys were taking part in the tournament, with Kyrgios, Millman, and De Minaur on the draw. He and Roger were on opposites sides of it, so if they met on court it would be on the Final, and they were looking forwards to that. 

When Rafa arrived at their hotel, Roger was already there, waiting for him in the lounge. As he was so invested in his phone, he didn't notice the Spaniard creeping up behind him, and strongly placing his hands on the Swiss’ shoulders. 

Roger jumped in surprise, almost dropping his phone. He gasped, turning around to face Rafa, who bore an amused grin on his face. 

"You almost killed me of a heart attack!" 

Rafa chuckled, embracing Roger. The older man sighed with a smile and hugged the other man back, gentle strokes on his back. 

"It's good to see you, Raf," he whispered for only them to hear. 

They parted quicker than they had wanted, a kiss lingering on both of their lips, wanting but never quite touching, both of them knew that that was clearly impossible to achieve here in the open. 

"I see you're playing De Minaur," Roger commented, patting the spot beside him for Rafa to sit. 

"Sí, you play Khachanov, no?" 

Roger nodded, their conversation soon taking the path of tennis and wandering far from any personal topics that might not be ideal to discuss out in the open. And after casual chatting for about half an hour, Rafa had to leave. 

"Gonna rest, tomorrow I have practice, and this flight was too long." He stood up from the soft couch, already missing the warmth the other player gave off. 

The Swiss stood up also, agreeing with the Spaniard. "I should also go, then. See you tomorrow Rafa," he hugged briefly the other man, wanting their contact to last just a little bit longer. 

Rafa smiled, then made his way down the lounge to the elevators, and then disappeared behind metallic doors. 

Tomorrow, tomorrow they would see each other again. 

The next day Rafa was early at the practice courts, apparently not many players had yet woken up. Well, it seemed that one player had woken up, since he was staring at Rafa from one of the benches. 

"Rogi! What you doing here?" Rafa asked as he places a soft peck on his boyfriend's lips, nobody was around to see them, except of course Carlos who was well aware of Rafa's and Roger's relationship, having walked in on them many times in the past. 

"Hey, baby," he whispered when they parted. Then in normal voice for Carlos to hear said, "You told me you were going to practice, and I thought you might need a hitting partner." He said with a smug smile looking at Carlos who had walked to them. 

"How nice of you, Roger," Carlos added, cutting Rafa off from what he was about to say. "You hit with Rafa and I'll watch from the sidelines, it'll be great practice before the matches begin."

Rafa nodded, quickly leaving his stuff on the bench, grabbing his racquet, putting on headband and wristbands. When he was ready, Roger was standing by the baseline on the other side of the court. 

They began playing, hitting the ball there and there, strong backhands, stronger forehands, volleys well answered, serves landing in the correct place. Everything was running smoothly, and before they knew it both of them were drenched in sweat and heavy breathing bordering on panting. 

"I think that's enough for today boys!" Carlos called from beside the umpire's chair, checking his clock. 

Rafa took of his headband and walked to his bench, eyeing Roger when they passed by the net. "Good game Rogi!" 

Roger smiled, "You too Rafa, it was nice practicing with you."

After drinking some water, and organizing their things, both men moved to the locker room for a well needed shower. Just like the courts, no other player was here, bit strange if you may ask me, but two showers were still wet, which meant that two someones had been here earlier than them. 

Rafa and Roger stripped naked and since there was no one, there was zero risk of anyone walking in on them like this. They got in in separate shower stalls, not wanting to push their luck too much, also knowing that they might not be able to keep their hands to themselves. With small talk between them, and hot water soothing their tired muscles, their shower ended rather quickly. 

Rafa reached for his towel, but found nothing. Confused, he looked, peeking his head out of the shower, his towel and clothes nowhere to be seen. 

"Roger ? You see my towel?" Rafa asked Roger, opening a little the Swiss’ shower curtain to see him. 

The Swiss was turning off the water when Rafa asked him, and when he reached for his towel, like Rafa, he found nothing. 

"Rafa? What on Earth?" Roger was super confused, he was sure he had left his towel just outside his shower, close to his reach as he always did. 

The Spaniard frowned, stepping outside the shower after checking that no one was out there, covering himself as best as he could with his hands trying to keep some decency. 

Roger stepped out too, he not covering himself, not caring if Rafa saw. The younger one blushed an angry shade of red at that. Roger smirked at the reaction he had elicited from the Spaniard. He moved closer to him, almost pressing their wet and naked bodies together. 

"Isn't this what you wanted, Rafa?" He whispered huskily in his ear, making the other one shiver. "You wanted us to run naked, here you have it, give the sign and we'll run...."

Rafa shook his head, eyes widening at his boyfriend's words. "This is ATP tournament Rogelio! You can not run naked around here!"

Roger chuckled, nodding at Rafa’s intelligent remark. "Then we should sneak outside the lockers and see if Carlos is waiting for you outside, cause from where I am, our phones aren't here either." He pointed to the bench where they had left their bags, phones in there. 

Rafa sighed, nodding but still not too thrilled with leaving the idea he had suggested almost three months ago in that dim lit bedroom. 

Roger went first, checking the door that led to the outside of the locker room, fortunately for them, security was nowhere to be seen. Rafa had come beside Roger, both of them began opening the door when they heard people talking, and they were coming right where they where. Cursing under his breath in Spanish, Rafa reacted quickly, grabbing Roger's hand and moving behind some plants and bushes that for a random reason where there, got themselves hidden from the view of the two players that had entered the room. 

Peeking with extreme caution, Roger caught sight of them. Just the Zverev brothers, Sascha and Mischa, who seemed like they had just returned from practice like them. They were talking fastly in a quick exchange of Russian and German, making Roger struggle with trying to catch up on what they were saying. 

As if God had heard his and Rafa’s prayers, they quickly got in the showers, still talking over the sound of the water. Rafa shot Roger a look that he understood perfectly, they stood up, and left as quietly as possible. 

They made it outside the door, Rafa still trying to cover his nakedness, and Roger, that by Rafa’s pleas, had accepted to cover himself with his hands. They wobbled together, trying to spot Carlos while dodging places that had a lot of people in them. After wondering for about two minutes, they saw two tennis bags on the floor, their bags! Walking as fast as they could, they reached their bags, pulling out towels to wrap around their waist. 

Rafa sighed with relief, appreciating having something wrapped around his body. "Never let me say anything stupid like that again, sí?" Rafa said with a chuckle, picking up his bag. 

A Post-It note was left on the bag. 

"Hope you have fun :p !"

-Feli y Nando

Roger burst into laughter, Rafa following soon after. 

"I can't believe Feliciano and Verdasco did this to us!" Roger chuckled, trying to keep a straight face. The image of a Roger Federer in a towel, lounging around was by itself weird, and a maniac laughing one would not help, at all. 

Rafa shook his head, tears of laughter trying to escape his eyes. 

"They idiots, gonna kill them."

Roger embraced his lover, pulling him by his bare waist. 

"But they made your dream come true!"

Rafa shot him a dead look, making Roger laugh even harder. Maybe some things were never meant to happen, but this would be a really fun anecdote to tell in the future, that's for sure. 

"Come on, let's get changed, for real now. Then I'll treat you to lunch, what about that?" Roger said, grabbing Rafa by the arm and walking together once again to the locker room. 

Rafa hummed, "That is great idea, Rogelio. Better than mine three months ago." He snorted. 

Both players entered the lockers, bags safely on their shoulders, clothes securely inside them. The thing that they would never now, was that by there, two Spanish player were watching, big grins on their faces, it had been a great joke. Great joke indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the ending! I made this longer than any other, trying to repay you in some way for waiting for me. As always feel free to leave kudos, and comments are greatly appreciated! Love you all guys!!!


	20. Day 20 "Getting married pt1"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I kinda disappeared for a week? In summary, I was dead and now I've risen. Guys I was very very sick and writing with a headache is not a very good idea. I bring you another chapter, divided in two, 20 and 21. Here's fedal wedding, hope you like it. Again, sorry for not updating. Love you all!

Today was the day. 

It was the most special occasion a journalist could ever dream of. A wedding. 

Normally, weddings in tennis were seen as a good headline. It brought attention to the readers and it paid very well. But this wedding, God knew it was different. 

It was the Nadal-Federer wedding. And it seemed it would be the celebration of the year. 

Their coming out wasn't expected. After Federer had announced his divorce with Mirka, everyone was confused. Why had this happened? Was there a reasonable cause? An affair no one was aware of? Had love wore off? What about their twins? Would she continue managing him? So many questions, yet no answers arrived. There had been silence from his side of the line, he chose to remain cautious, saying only what was necessary and choosing to divert the conversations to a tennis related topic. But after some time the press died down, all their prying questions replaced by their usual admiration for his tennis. 

They began seeing him spending a lot of time with a certain Spaniard. 

Apparently, his relationship with fellow tennis player, Rafael Nadal, had taken a twist. Now, they saw them entering buildings together, leaving hotel rooms trying to be discreet, looks that could say more than a thousand words, looks that the press didn't take lightly. When they asked the younger man about this he shrugged them off, told them it was a friend thing that was going on between them, and that he was very happy with his current girlfriend, Meri. 

Of course that was a lie, only that the presser didn't have to know that. 

Xisca, as they had decided to call Nadal’s girlfriend, was in reality just his friend, a very good friend who had accepted to pose as his girlfriend so the press would stop asking him about when was he going to get one. She travelled with his team as if she was just another part of it, Rafa treated her with love, but not with that kind of affection. The thing was, he wasn't attracted to her, but to another person. A man to be precise, and a fellow player to be exact. 

His romance with the GOAT began in 2008, in Wimbledon, that damn final that everyone seemed to worship as if it was the best tennis they had ever seen, which had just a tad of truth in it. After that interminable match had finished, they had met in the locker room and kissed fervently. No one had known their secret for almost two years, in 2010 they had broken it, Mirka catching them red-handed in Roger's bedroom, _his_ _wife’s_ _bedroom_. They had screamed at each other, Mirka threatening to call the police if Rafa didn't leave their house in that instant. The Spaniard obliged, too scared of his lover's wife to try to stay. Roger was left with her to deal with, and it had been hard. He explained to her everything as best as he could, wishing for her to understand how he really felt. But he had not to think only for himself, but for his daughters. For Myla and Charlene. For their future. What would they think of him if he just left them? They got to an agreement with Mirka soon after that encounter. He would continue to be his husband, the loyal father the whole world saw, she would continue to be by his side in every tournament, but, he would still see Rafa. 

She accepted, wishing his husband to be happy, even if it was not with her. Al leats she would still share part of his life, as the mother of his children. Children, because four years later after that, she gave birth to another set of twins, two boys, Leo and Lenny. Everyone was happy after the birth of those two. Roger had realized that Rafa felt a certain love for his children, all of them, like the affection just a parent would feel. Any time he saw the Spaniard play or talk to his kids he felt a kind of affection flutter inside his chest, a soft smile would appear on his face. 

They met very few times. 

It was mostly because of the only times they could get together. During tournaments their meetings were brief, careful and discreet around all the press around them. On vacation usually they visited each other longer. Rafa liked going to Switzerland, the cold mountains a hard contrast to the warm and scorching days in Mallorca. For Roger, going to Spain was a treasure, as he didn't go that often he tried to make the most of each visit. Although it was a bit awkward when they met in Mallorca, Rafa’s family being oblivious of their relationship for some time, having to come up with random excuses to cover Roger's visit meaning. 

Rafa came out to his family and team in 2015. 

It was hard coming out to your family at age 29, almost 30! But Rafa did it, overcoming all his fears of rejection, as everyone accepted him just as he was. His mother was proud of him for doing that, knowing how hard it had to be for his son to have to come out to them. The most difficult part was telling his uncle Toni, not knowing how the older man would react was eating him inside out. So he made a plan, first he told him he was gay, which he took with amazing calmness. Then, the hard part: telling him he was in a relationship with Roger Federer, his most infamous rival. That, left him speechless for almost 1 minute, just staring at him with a confused look. Then he spoke, no hint of anger in his voice. It was okay, he had said, clasping Rafa’s shoulder with his hand. That was when he broke down, when Toni shot him his most sincerest smile, softness on his eyes towards his nephew. He had hugged his uncle as if he was 6 years old again, as if he was just a children afraid of imaginary things that he now knew were not scary. A kid not afraid of rejection. 

Everything was good. 

Rafa and Roger had decided to announce their coming out at a press conference. Of course they didn't tell the presser for what exactly were they calling them, they had only told them that Rafael Nadal and Roger Federer had very important news to talk about and they wished to let the world know. Who could resist to that? I mean, two of the greatest tennis players were about to make a statement about something, it was interesting news! Apart from that, not so many super interesting things happened in tennis, no big big news were released, so this was good. When they came out, everyone was shocked, as improbable as it may sound, they managed to leave the presser in utter silence. It only lasted a few seconds, then it burst into millions of people shouting their questions at them. It ended well, better than they had expected. 

That happened in 2016. 8 years after it all began. 

But now, now things had changed. It was 2019, and Roger Federer was about to get married to Rafael Nadal. 

Nothing could be better than that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End of chapter 20!!! Only ten more chapters to go. Hope you liked this one, tomorrow (hopefully) comment and kudos


	21. Day 21 "Getting Married pt2"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So....I'm sorry I went AWOL on you for almost 4 months. I really had a bad case of writers block that I couldn't go through. I tried to get this chapter finished like a week ago as a Valentine's day gift but I couldn't. But hey! Now I'm back with another chapter, which took me ages to finish, it's longer than any other one so I hope you really like it. Again, I'm so fuckin sorry guys, I'll try not to let writers block take control like that over me again. Love you!

Rafa woke up feeling ecstatic. 

Never in his wildest dreams he would have thought he would be getting married to one of the greatest human beings on Earth, even that was an understatement. 

He was fucking getting married, get your unhappiness out of here please. 

 

The Spaniard snapped out of his thoughts when someone snuggled closer against his back, pulling him closer to that source of heat that seemed to be keeping his body warm from the chill air of their bedroom. He hummed in pleasure as tender kisses were planted in between his shoulder blades, a hand making itself present by caressing his side with calloused fingers that traced his ribs with such gentleness it made him quake with love and affection towards his lover....his future husband. 

"Mmm... It's too early for you to be awake," a voice still grave with sleep mumbled behind him. "Why on Earth are you up at 7 am, Raf?" Roger asked, the Spaniard still lying in his arms. 

Rafa smirked, turning around so he could see the older man. Roger's hair was disheveled, those dark curls that even after a two hour match could remain in perfect place were now messy, some strands falling on his face, shadowing those beautiful eyes that were still heavy with sleepiness. He stretched an arm, caressing his jaw, noticing the barely hint of stubble there. Roger gave him a soft smile, his hand behind Rafa's neck, pulling his face closer to his to finally reach those magnificent lips he adored kissing. Their mouths moved together harmoniously, the years that had passed not erasing the magic between them. Roger's tongue touched Rafa's bottom lip, asking for permission. Rafa obliged with a small whimper escaping from the back of his throat, unable to resist the Swiss’ ministrations he parted his lips as a skilled tongue slipped inside, caressing his mouth. 

They parted a few moments later, Rafa trying to recover his breath while Roger looked wide awake now. "That is a way to wake me up," he chuckled hugging the other man with tightness. 

"Vamos, Rogi. Today important, I have to wash before day begins," Rafa said pushing Roger away softly to let him get out of bed. 

The Swiss smiled, sprawling himself on the bed, the crisp white sheets covering part of his naked body. "Can I come with you? We can save water..."Roger smirked, a hidden message behind his words. 

Rafa rolled his eyes playfully, giggling as he pushed Roger in a teasing way. He gave him a final peck on the lips before leaving the warm bed, relatively cold air hitting his bare skin, making him shudder and sending shivers down his spine. He heard Roger chuckle at him softly, a "you shouldn't have left" leaving the older man’s lips. 

Rafa went around their room, which was an utter mess if he was being honest, and grabbed a clean towel that was lying beside the TV and wrapped it around his waist. He was about to enter the bathroom, but turned to the bed before. 

"Y? You no coming?" He wiggled his hips a little bit, before disappearing through the bathroom door, sure that Roger would follow behind him. 

And he was right, not one minute later and a pair of warm arms wrapped around his torso, the Swiss snuggling his face in the younger’s man neck, the light stubble tickling the Spaniard. He sighed contently, smiling even though he knew Roger couldn't see it. 

"Do you know how much I love you, Raf?" Roger whispered in his ear. Rafa rested his head back on the older’s man shoulder. "I think I have a idea." He chuckled softly and slowly turned around to face the Swiss. 

If you asked Rafa he would tell you that Roger was breath-taking, and he was not mistaken. The Swiss was looking him with an adoring smile, those who were reserved only for him, his eyes showed all the emotion he couldn't express with words, and Rafa couldn't ask for more. The Spaniard grinned and pressed his lips to Roger's, slowly moving them with rhythm. Even after all this time, their kisses never grew old, it always left Rafa aching for more, for that clean taste that he could only describe as Roger. 

"We should shower," Rafa said in between kisses, trying hard to break apart from the Swiss. Roger hummed against Rafa's lips, a hand tangling in those messy brown locks he had always loved, pulling lightly at them, eliciting a drawn moan from the younger man. 

Roger gave Rafa a last kiss before breaking apart. "Yes, we should. You can't marry a wonderful man smelling bad, can you?" He smiled, turning the shower on, the temperature warm to soothe their muscles and bodies. 

He wasn't seeing Rafa, but he knew the Spaniard was smiling too. Rafa went behind Roger and hugged him, "You never smell bad, Rogelio." 

"That is good," he said referring to the water, putting his hand under the spray and loving the warm liquid under his fingers. 

Roger hummed and threw the towel aside before getting in the shower, Rafa following closely behind. The Swiss groaned with closed eyes as the water hit him in the back, relaxing him, and with shampoo on his and Rafa’s hair, took his last shower as Roger Federer.

 

After a very long shower than soon turned cold, both players stepped outside the bathroom, towels wrapped around their waists and droplets of water dripping down their backs and chest. Roger went to the closet and was about to take something when Rafa's shout stopped him. 

"Rogelio! You can't get dressed with me! Me can not see you, bad luck!" Rafa looked deadly serious, Roger couldn't help but laugh at his boyfriend's myth-believes. 

"Well"- he placed his hands on his hips-"where am I supposed to get changed? And how are we going to eat if we can't see each other, love?" Roger inquired, a sassy smile on his lips. 

Rafa hummed, thoughts racing through his mind, trying to figure out a solution. "I know! You stay, I leave, we no see each other. Perfect!" He clapped his hands enthusiastically, Roger almost could die of his adorableness. 

"Where on Earth will you go? This is your house!"

That was true, they were indeed in Rafa’s home, in Mallorca, where they would legally get married. But what Roger didn't know was that Rafa had a trick under his sleeve. And that trick was his sister! 

"I stay with Mari, she help me dress, I eat with her and then we go to beach and get married to you, Rogi." Rafa had approached him and he finished his statement giving the Swiss a chaste kiss, saving more for later. "I call Stan, he help you, then we all good!"

Roger laughed, finding funny that they were doing it like this. Well, if sticking to traditions made Rafa happy then he would have to oblige, because he loved making the Spaniard happy. 

"Okay, okay. I'll put on some sweatpants to receive Stan, don't think he'll appreciate me being naked," he joked, pulling over his head a worn out t-shirt and some decent pants, while Rafa did the same. 

"I would ap-apri...." He frowned,"What you say?" "Appreciate?" "Sí! I would appreciate!" 

Roger chuckled, "I know you would Raf."

Rafa kissed him again, and with a playful slap in the butt, left the room and the house. It was just Roger, his thoughts, and Stan, when he arrives. 

He decided to make some time by going downstairs and grabbing something to eat, being already almost 9am. Two toasts with jam, and a glass of orange juice later his Swiss friend knocked on the door, finally arriving. 

Roger went and opened the door, finding Stan standing there, bag in hand, probably with his suit for the ceremony in there. 

"Roger! How's it going? Rafa called and said you might need help from one of your friends!" Stan gave him a warm smile. 

Roger chuckled softly, of course Rafa would do this. He hugged Stan and opened the door widely to let him come in. The began chatting about the wedding. 

The wedding itself wasn't going to be a really big thing itself. First they would have a closed ceremony where they would sign some papers that would legalize their marriage, exchange vows and rings, and then they would move on to the party were they would stay till late enjoying themselves as a newly wed couple. For the greater good they hadn't permitted the entrance of any of the media members to the ceremony nor to the party,but it was probable that they would manage to sneak out some photos anyways. 

"How are you feeling? Good?" Stan asked, stepping up the stairs with Roger to the bedroom to get changed and all. 

Roger sat on the edge of the bed, it was still unmade from when they woke up that morning, and crossed his legs while Stan paced through the room searching for some tie-clip. "Yeah"-he sighed contently- "I never thought I would be getting married again, if I'm being honest. But when Raf appeared my whole life changed."

That made Stan look up from the floor and snort. Roger shot him a murderous glance that had a bit of playfulness in it. "That sounded so cheesy."

"Well, it's true,"Roger said with a smile, throwing Stan a pillow to the head to shut him up. The Swiss just laughed and walked towards Roger. 

He placed a hand on his shoulder, "Come on, if we don't get dressed I'm sure Rafa will kill me."

Roger rolled his eyes, "You tend to overdramatize, did you know that." He chuckled. 

"Whatever, come on big guy, big day."

***

Roger sighed, checking himself on the mirror for the twentieth time. 

After he and Stan had gotten dressed, he helped him finish the final touches with his hair. Honestly, he didn't understand how it could remain in perfect place during a two hour match, but now that he wanted it to be flawless it looked that his hair wanted to start a rebellion against him. Some water and gel after, it looked amazing, the fluffiness and curliness at its peak. 

"Everything is going to go smoothly as hell, Rog. But before we leave, you have the ring and your vows no?" 

Roger touched his pocket, feeling a folded piece of paper and the familiar box with the ring in it that he was supposed to give to the ring kid. He smiled, remembering it was going to be Myla and Charlene who were going to present them to he and Rafa since Leo and Lenny were too small to do it and the girls had begged his father to let them do it. But after some talking with Mirka and Rafa they had decided they would let the boys be the ones in charge of throwing the flowers around 

"Yeah" He gave his friend a reassuring grin, "Let's go to get wed."

***

It was nearing almost evening when they arrived to a beach in Porto Cristo, the sun giving off the perfect amount of heat. People were already there, waiting for it to finally begin. There were family, his and Rafa’s, friends, from tour and childhood ones, but most importantly, there was his fiance.

They had timed it out perfectly, so that when he arrived, Rafa arrived too and they could walk together up front and get legally married. 

All the guests went quiet and stood up when they saw them, music began to play, filling the whole place with its harmony. 

Roger began walking, Leo walked in front of him throwing flowers while trying hard to walk upstraight, stumbling a little bit. Lenny was doing the same in front of Rafa who he could see was sparkling with happiness. He couldn't believe this was really happening, they were really getting fucking married.

After walking for a few moments, they were finally face to face. He smiled tenderly at his lover, admiring his whole body. Rafa was dressed almost the same as him, yet not identically, more in a complementary way. While Roger wore a dark blue suit with long tie, Rafa was dressed in a smoke gray one, dark shirt that contrasted perfectly with his crisp white one. They were perfect for each other, two pieces of a puzzle finally together. Even in tennis they contrasted harmoniously, Rafa being left handed with a two handed backhand, and Roger a righty with a one handed backhand. 

He looked at his lover's face, that face he had seen many many times, yet every time he saw it it felt like he was looking at it for the first time in his life, falling captive of those deep brown eyes that had a fire in them that never died, no matter how much time went by. Fire that seemed to explode during a match, just like his game, but even after it was over it didn't go off just went softer, like a warm sunset that was happening inside his eyes. It truly amazed Roger how much time had passed, he still felt as if he had just seen that shy boy with the brightest of smiles who followed him everywhere with those puppy eyes that could make Roger do anything Rafa wanted in that instant. The Swiss was not joking when he said he would do anything to just get happy puppy Rafa all day long. 

Rafa smiled, bringing Roger down from his memories. The ceremony was about to begin. 

"We are gathered here to honor the civil union of these two men, Roger Federer and Rafael Nadal." The ceremony master began saying. "Now, before we proceed with all the rings exchange and the paper signing, I'm sure they have a few words they want to share with each other." That was the cue to start to exchange vows, Roger took a deep breath, smiling nervously as he took the folded piece of paper of his pocket. He looked up at Rafa one more time, his deep brown eyes soft with tender. 

"Raf"- He began- "Being here with you, I just never thought this was going to be possible." Roger let out a breathy chuckle. "But, now that we are here, I could never think of it any other way. I know life has not made things easy for our relationship, specifically during the first years, but we made it through and for me that's all that matters." He looked up and smile confidently at the Spaniard. "You are the most beautiful person on Earth, the funniest guy I've ever met, and when you smile I seem to forget everything because of how sweet you are. Saying that I want to spend every day with you is not a lie, I want to be there with and for you during every moment, carry you around when your knees can't hold onto the greatness of the man you are, make you smile after a loss even if we are a thousand miles away." The Swiss felt how his eyes have begun to water. "Hearing you, trying to make me forget about losses or those moments when we I break and it seems that this will be really the end of everything, but then you are there shinning so brightly that I feel blinded and I know that you have faith in me, that I will overcome anything I propose." A single tear left his eye, Rafa’s hand caressed his cheek and oh so tenderly wiped the tear away. The older one continued. 

"We have shared so many matches, many beautiful moments together that if you would allow me I would like to continue living them with you by my side. I promise, Rafa, to always protect you when you feel scared, even if it is because of a thunderstorm or a blackout," That made the younger one chuckle slightly, Roger looked up and saw that Rafa had some tear streaks on his cheeks. The thumb of his hand slowly traced his jaw, lingering on his cheek as he erased those marks sweetly. "I'll always be there for you. Always, Raf, cause you are, and always will be, the love of my life." With that said he sealed his vow with a kiss, cupping softly his Spaniard face so he could kiss him better. He felt how all of what he said was transmitted to that kiss.

The public applaud, but they separated rather quickly because Rafa still had to say his vows. 

The Spaniard smiled, taking a similar looking paper out of his jacket. 

"Rogi, saying that I love you is not enough for what my heart feels every time I see you.Just being by your side or hearing your voice could make my day." Roger pictured in his mind all those late night calls or funny phone messages "You are the best person that I know, and I don't lie when I compliment you, cause to my eyes you are perfect. Even during tournaments I feel like I am in home because sleeping in the same hotel room as you is my home." That made Roger heart swell with love because he felt exactly the same. "Although I seem to take all the blankets to myself, but that doesn't matter because it means we get to cuddle closer." Roger chuckled as the image of a very sleepy Spaniard wrapped in blankets crossed his mind. "You bring light to me in my moments of darkness and I will ever be grateful to fate or destiny or I don't know for putting you on my way because I don't know how could I ever live without you. My dream is to grow old by your side and I know that anything we set out, we achieve. I love you Rogelio."

Roger was actually crying when Rafa finished, the younger man hugged him so tightly that the Swiss forgot all the noise of the people around them, but was brought back as the master began speaking again. 

"Now, after all this has been said, let us proceed with the rings!" Myla and Charlene both stepped out carrying two identical gold rings. The girls looked beautiful, their mother had really made a very good job at dressing them. 

Roger took the ring from Charlene, and Rafa from Myla. They both were gold with two R’s interlocked together, the design was simple but still beautiful. 

"With the power that I have, do you Roger accept Rafael as your husband?"

"I do," Roger said without hesitation, putting the ring in Rafa's ring finger. 

"And you Rafael, accept Roger as your husband?"

"Sí, I do," he said with a smile from ear to ear doing the same as Roger. 

"Then I declare you husband and husband, you may now kiss!"

All of the people clapped, happy to see this wedding at it's best point. But the real happy people were now Roger and Rafa as they kissed fervently. 

Roger cupped Rafa's face with his hand as he used the other one to wrap around his wait and pull him closer to his body. Meanwhile Rafa had tangled his fingers in Roger's curls at the back of his neck as he smiled in to the kiss, opening his mouth a little to let his _husband’s_ tongue inside. They kissed for a few more seconds before they parted and turned to face their family and friends, Roger's hand still resting protectively around Rafa's waist as they took some pictures of the newly wed couple. 

Rafa leaned over Roger to whisper something, "I love you Roger Federer-Nadal." Roger looked at Rafa with love all over his eyes. "I love you too Rafael Nadal-Federer."

And with that said he kissed the Spaniard once again, euphoria rushing through his veins knowing they were finally married, they were really husbands. And nothing, not even all Grand Slams in the world could be better than that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 21 in the bag!!!! I can't promise chapter 22 for tomorrow but I'll tell you that you won't have to wait four months again for it. Anyways, as always feel free to leave kudos and comments, I really appreciate those! If you like you can leave any prompts or ideas you want to see in the next few chapters. Until then, bye bye!


	22. Day 22 "Doing something hot"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is smut, I really hope it's well written. I think it's good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hellooooo everybody! Ik back again and it's not been four months! Yey! No, seriously, I'm glad to still writing this, it's fun. Here is something I've been writing since last week, and as you might have guessed from the tittle, it's smut. I'm sad Rafa isn't playing Miami, but Roger's still at it so GO ROGER!!! Now, I leave you with the chapter, until then....Adios!

This thing they were doing was stupid.

Well, more than stupid, it was dangerous. There was the danger of someone finding them, finding out _what_ they were doing.

And, if they found out, it was probably going to be the end of their careers, because this thing they were about to do wasn't quite allowed. Thinking again, he was pretty sure it wasn't allowed to have sex in Central Court. Not even for Roger Federer or Rafael Nadal.

It was late at night, the hot and suffocating air of the day now a cool breeze that was breathable without burning your lungs or sweating like a madman. The first day at Wimbledon was over, all players had all retired and gone to their respective rooms to get some rest for tomorrow. He plays in two days, just practice and rest for today and tomorrow. Being in the top ten and all had given him that day off for practicing or lounging around. He did the first one, Central Court all by himself and Severin to hit and try to talk some strategies. It had all gone well, normal even. Just what you expected from playing a Grand Slam. But you never know what awaits you.

He was in his room, Mirka in the girls rooms, trying to make them fall asleep like their brothers had done. Roger began looking at his phone, the soft sound of Swiss-German being spoken in the background. He smiled, thinking about how hard his daughters might be trying not to fall asleep.

A notification from his phone made him look down at it again. Text from Rafa, it read. His breath caught in his throat. He opened the message. _Room_ _543_ _bring_ _the_ _stuff_ _xx_ He felt how his face flushed, he wanted to go, no, he _needed_ to go.

The Swiss got up from bed and changed clothes, something easy to take off later, a black shirt and dark sweatpants would do. Then the other part, the _stuff_.  He grabbed a small Nike bag, his hands shaking slightly with nervousness and excitement as he took out the things from his luggage and put it inside the smaller bag. He exhaled deeply as he flung the bag over his shoulder, ready to leave the room. But, as if someone had heard him, Mirka appeared by the door. "Where are you going, dear?" She asked with faked innocence, leaning against the doorframe of his bedroom.

His throat felt dry, some kind of guilt crawling up his body and clawing at his insides with strength. "I'm going with Stan, he wanted to talk about some stuff that was going on in his life or something." He shrugged as if nothing was really happening, the weight of the bag now heavy on his shoulder. Her eyes sparked with something he couldn't quite make out. "Oh? And what's in the bag, Roger?" The Swiss’ mind went blank with excuses, there was no way he was getting out of here without the real truth being told. "Umm..stuff?" He tried.

She sighed, crossing her arms and walking towards her husband. There was nothing he could do but let her guide him to bed and sit him down on it. "You're going to see him, aren't you? To see Rafa," she said in a hushed voice to not wake up her daughters - _his girls_. He looked down, "Yes, he just texted me." He bit his lower lip nervously. "Then go, but be here before the kids wake up." She looked at him with eyes cold as steel. "I don't want to explain to them again why their father is not here."

Roger smiled a little, daring to meet her eyes with his own. They had come to an agreement years back, when he had first told Mirka about Rafa, about what was going on between then. She was reluctant at first, angry at Roger for doing this to her, but time had mended things, had made them go more smoothly. The Swiss was glad to have such an understanding wife, he loved her, felt the same love he had felt when they had first met at the Olympics.

But Rafa was special. He couldn't live without him, without his Spanish drug. He loved both of them, in a different way, but it was the same feeling. He gave her a soft and sweet kiss on the temple, wishing her goodnight and promising he would be here by early morning.

With that he grabbed his bag again, and with a last look at his wife, left the room, and then the house. It was time to meet Rafa. He couldn't suppress his need and want any longer, he _had_ to see the Spaniard.

Now.

***

It was getting darker with each passing moment as Roger made his way to the hotel Rafa had texted him. Normally they would meet in hotels during Wimbledon, since Roger's house was occupied by his wife and kids, and Rafa's team occupied his.

This hotel though, they had never been in, it was close to Center Court, just imagining the court managed to send shivers of anticipation down his spine. _Soon_ he told himself.

With his head hanging low to prevent someone from recognizing him, he made his way past reception and towards the elevators. Once inside, he took a deep breath, shaking all his fears away to leave only space for his hype and excitement. He pressed the 5th floor button, he was getting closer. The doors opened faster than what he would have hoped. He stepped out, the corridor empty, not a single sound heard, only his shushed footsteps as he mad his way down to the Spaniard’s room. He clutched the small Nike bag stiffer as he stood outside the wooden door. It wasn't too fancy, as Rafa would say , not to his standards at least. The Swiss chuckled softly, before breathing and knocking on the door. His heartbeat was getting faster, it seemed it wanted to get out of his chest and run around freely.

The door opened. A semi naked Rafael Nadal with only a pair of blue boxers on the other side of the door, a smirk on his lips. "You late, Rogi," he whispered, the smirk not leaving his face. Roger swallowed, "I had to talk to Mirka." The Spaniard was still on the door, the older one getting impatient by every passing second. "Can I come in?" Rafa nodded, moving out of the door so Roger could get in. After he entered and the room's door was closed, it was as if two wild animals had been freed from their cages after ages. It was wild.

Roger pushed Rafa up against the hard door, his lips quickly finding the younger one's with ease, years of practice making it easier. The younger one let out a surprised gasp, the cool wood of the door against the hot skin of his back making him shudder. The Swiss hadn't stop kissing him, Rafa had opened his lips and he was licking inside the Spaniard’s mouth, tasting every corner of it. It was intoxicating, neither of them wanted to let go of that sort of drug, it kept them alive. Rafa tangled his hands on the back of Roger's hair, pulling slightly hard at the hairs there, eliciting a grunt from the Swiss.

Sometimes the Spaniard wished Roger would let his hair grow a little bit more, he missed the small curls that hung loose behind his head. He was getting lost in the sensations that circled him, his lover's mouth on his, the velvet touch of his tongue, the soft caress of the Swiss’ hand on his cheek. Rafa moaned as Roger pressed his knee up against his groin, rubbing at his hardened cock through the damp material of his navy blue boxers. "Roger…." He gasped, his hands moving to the other one's shoulder searching something to hold on to. The Swiss buried his face on the younger player's neck, breathing in the clean scent of his lover. He licked a stripe from his collarbone to his jawline, then down again and this time sucking on his pulse point, aware that it would leave a mark, but careful enough to do it somewhere a shirt would cover it. He couldn't wait to see that angry red-purple bruise that would start forming not long from now.

His leg was still pressed against Rafa, who was a complete mess, mouth hanging open, little moans and whimpers escaping his wine-tainted lips, hair damp with sweat and some of it sticking to his forehead. "You like it, don't you Raf ?" Roger grunted close to his ear huskily. "I bet you can't wait for what's coming…. Center Court." Rafa gasped, eyes opening widely. Roger chuckled, stepping apart from his lover, who was trying to catch his breath.

They had discussed this a couple of days ago, how hot I would be to have sex on Center Court, on fucking Wimbledon, during a tournament. Rafa had first thought about it, after they both were spent in Shanghai and were curled on Roger's hotel bed. Roger had found the idea incredibly hot, he wanted to do it, and here they were.

"Get dressed, we're going." He threw the bag on the nearest sofa. Rafa nodded, hurrying to open the bag, still hard as a rock, the tip of his cock wet with precum that had started to wet the front of his boxers. It was dark clothing, t shirt and pants, a complete contrast to what was the Wimbledon mandatory attire - full white. Since it was late at night, dark clothes were the best option in going unnoticed by security or any curious person.

Roger walked towards the younger man who was bending over the sofa, fumbling to take the pants out of the bag. He pressed his body against the barely clothed bottom of his boyfriend, making the Spaniard’s breath hitch, before he grinded his ass against Roger's groin, whimpering softly. "Hmm, so good for me baby"- his fingers wandered beneath the boxers, his index finger circling his puckered hole, finding it already loose enough to slip two fingers knuckle deep inside him without any restriction. Rafa arched his back as a long drawn moan escaped his lips. "You've been busy, haven't you?" He gave his cheek a loud slap, the Spaniard gasped. "Gott, Raf, I would fuck you right here, bended like this over the sofa like a good boy, if I hadn't other plans for the night." The Swiss withdrew his fingers from the other man's hole, earning a whimper of complaint. Roger threw him the sweatpants, Rafa catching them in the air, his ass still sticking out. "Hurry."

***

There were no guards around when they made it to the spot just outside the court. Roger had made sure it was all perfectly timed out, they sneaking in at the perfect moment the guards changed spots or something like that he had explained Rafa.

He was buzzing with excitement, he could sense the Spaniard was too. "Come on, almost there," he said in a hushed voice as he opened the doors that led to the outside, to Center Court. It wasn't pitch black, but it was still very dark. He could see Rafa standing besides him, he could see the net, and part of the baseline at the other side. The stands were very out of vision for him, and if cameras caught them, it was improbable that they would recognize them, as the security cameras were of bad quality, and they were dressed in black.

Rafa walked towards the net, his calloused fingers gliding over it. Roger followed him and wrapped his hands over the younger man's waist, pressing him to his flushed body. The Spaniard shivered under the Swiss’ touch, it was electric. "Roger…" he said in a voice not louder than a whisper. The Swiss caressed his legs with tender, "Shhh, I'm going to make you feel so good baby." Rafa whimpered, pushing back at Roger.

The older man grabbed the hem of the Spaniard’s sweats and pulled down, underwear too, leaving Rafa completely exposed to all Center Court to see. He hissed as cool air brushed at his body, goosebumps appearing all over his legs. Roger's hands cupped Rafa’s ass cheeks, spreading them wide to tease at his entrance. He probed a finger, and was surprised to still find it wet and loose. Rafa moaned, long and drawn as Roger curls his finger in the most accurate way, hitting the perfect spot.

"Rogi…please, _por favor_ …" Rafa begs, voice breaking at the end as Roger keeps assaulting his prostate, hands gripping tighter the net, arching his back at the pleasure. Roger cooed, pulling up the back of the Spaniard’s shirt to stroke at the sun kissed skin of his lower back. "I'm going to fuck you so good, baby." He adds another finger, scissoring them to spread his loose hole. "You want this,no? Want to feel me fucking your tight little hole?" Rafa whimpered as Roger withdrew his fingers, wiping the excess of lube on his sweats.

The emptiness Rafa felt was soon replaced, as he felt the hot touch of Roger's cock on his hole, testing. He bottomed out slowly, hand gripping Rafa’s waist, the other guiding his member to the sweet heat of Rafa’s ass. They both groaned deeply as his balls touched the back of Rafa’s cheeks.

Roger began to pull back, Rafa whimpering high in his throat as he slammed back down again, the sound of skin slapping on skin the only sound besides their loud panting and Rafa’s pretty moans. Roger taked a handful of the Spaniard’s hair and tugged, making the younger one moan and arch his back, Roger's hand on his waist keeping him close. " _Joder_! Yes, SI Rogi, more please…" Rafa begs, Roger slamming his hips faster. "That's it Raf, loud as you want. Let all Center Court hear you, everyone should see you like this, so _dishveled_. I'm the only one who gets to do this to you okay baby?" He bites at Rafa’s neck, leaving marks that t-shirts will cover. "You're mine, Raf, _mine_."

Rafa moaned harder, the sounds nothing similar at those he makes on court. "Yes…only you Rogi. No one else. " He closed his eyes, pleasure too much, he lowered his hand to his cock only to had it slapped away by Roger's hand that had left the grip on his hair. "You're going to cum only by my cock, okay?" He twisted his hips to angle it to pound on Rafa’s prostate on every thrust.

Rafa let out a soft sob, it was too much. Roger kissed the back of his neck tenderly, whispering huskily in his ear. "Cum for me Raf.." He doesn't stop fucking him as Rafa cums, body spasming and moaning loudly.

Roger jerked his cock to milk until the last drop of cum from his lover, Rafa mewling softly at the oversensitivity. He grunts as the Spaniard’s inner muscles clench and he cums deep inside him. He panted, pulling out and watching his cum drizzling out of his abused hole. Rafa turned around and pulled up his boxers and sweats, making a face as his butt touched Roger's drying cum.

He smiled at Roger, caressing his jaw with his finger, making the older man lean at the touch and smile fondly.

"Te quiero."

Roger grabbed the back of Rafa’s neck and kissed him sweetly.

"I love you too."

He pulled up his clothes too, wrapping an arm around Rafa’s waist, as they began walking out of the Court. "Let's go, _liebling_. We've pushed our luck too much tonight."

Rafa smiled, leaning towards Roger.

The next morning Rafa couldn't stop blushing at practice when he had to come to the net.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End of chapter 22! Yep, only 8 more. Hoped you liked it. Comments and kudos give me life so please, feel free to drop a couple! Love you all kiddos!!!


	23. Day 23 "Arguing"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angst. Just angst.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I'm not dead and have no excuses. Just, writers block I suppose, BUT I have already begun writing the next two chapters and they're going pretty good, so look forwards to that. ALSOOO, this is set after Roger's lost to Stefanos in the AO of this year. I don't quite remember at what time it finished, so the chapter could be slightly off of that. Anyway, this is angst. Enjoy!

Rafa sighed looking at the TV in front of him. The match had just ended and he wanted nothing to do with it. 

It had gone bad. Roger's game seemed off, something he had not expected. He had to give it to Stefanos, though, the Greek had played an amazing match, and that face he made at the end had managed to put a smile on his own face too. No matter the final result. 

He huffed, turning the volume down on the television and grabbing his phone from the nightstand by the hotel bed. With a frown on his face he opened his messages, wanting to text the older Swiss. He wanted to tell him that it was okay, that it actually didn't matter. Wanted to hold him tight and kiss him, erasing his doubts and fears about the future. He stared at his phone for what seemed like an eternity, unable to type the damn message. Roger still had to shower, talk to his team about the loss and do press, he would be here in more than an hour, that of he didn't stop to greet his family, then it would be more than three hours. 

The Spaniard left his phone and slumped back to bed, closing his eyes, the light buzz of the TV still on as he fell asleep. 

***

Roger ran a hand through his still damp hair. 

It was half past midnight, the match he had played now long over. The burning sensation in his stomach had subsided a little after seeing his wife and kids, but some of the fire was still burning in there. 

He groaned softly, this was not supposed to happen. Sure, he didn't go there thinking it was going to be an easy-going laid-back match, but he also didn't think he was going to be unable to convert any of all the break points he was given. It was damn frustrating to be out of a tournament where he hopes to play against the Spaniard, who was still in the tournament. The Swiss was going to see him, it had been their plan all along, but he didn't know if this made things any different. 

He shook his head as he made his way down the empty hallway towards the younger player's room. Using the key he had given to him when he first arrived if he "needed anything" he opened the door. 

Darkness enshrouded him as he stepped inside, Rafa nowhere to be seen. Roger frowned, closing the door behind him, wasn't Rafa supposed to be waiting for his return, yearning to comfort his hurt lover? His frustration deepened as he made his way to the bedroom. There, the only light was coming from the highlights of his previous match, illuminating the soft features of the younger man who laid on bed, cuddled against the warm blankets. 

He turned on the light, throwing his bag on the floor making a heavy thump against the soft carpet, which made the Spaniard stirr awake.

"Rogi?" he croaked, voice heavy with sleep. He turned his head to look at the Swiss, squinting to see while being blinded by the light. 

The Swiss remained there, not moved a single muscle nor took any step forward his lover. "You fell asleep," he simply said, a kind of venom on the edge of his words. 

Rafa frowned, pushing the blankets of his body and sitting on the bed. Why wouldn't he be asleep? It was probably very late, and he needed the rest for his match tomorrow. Then it hit him, hard as a train. 

Roger had lost. Stefanos had beaten him. 

He stood up. Trying to find the right words to help his lover. "Rog, I'm so sorry you lose."

Roger huffed, crossing his arms over his chest, a sarcastic smile playing on his lips. 

"Oh, you're sorry I lost."

Rafa raised his eyebrow, confusion written on his face. "Sí, of course I am."

Roger shook his head, looking down whilst keeping the sarcastic smile. "As if you never wished I was out of the tournament so you could win more easily," he said in a condescending tone of voice, looking now at the Spaniard who had left the bed and was standing next to it, still far from the Swiss. 

"You know that's not true, Stefanos just played a better match than yo-" "Oh! Now you're defending him?!" He laughed bitterly. "I'm your boyfriend! I deserved the win!"

Rafa walked towards him, not quite believing what he was hearing. He knew that this lost was going to hurt Roger, but he didn't expected it to hurt him so badly. "What are you saying?! Listen to yourself," he said. 

Roger huffed, "Yeah yeah, shut up Rafa, maybe he should have beaten you!" He snarled. 

"You're my boyfriend, but maybe Stefanos would be kinder to me." That seemed to be the final point for the Swiss. 

"Then go and whore yourself out to him, that's the only way you're going to beat him tomorrow." He gestured agressively, the Spaniard a mere feet away from him. 

Rafa gasped, his heart feeling a burn he had never experienced. That was it, Roger couldn't talk to him like that, no matter the circumstances. 

"You know what?! Fuck you Roger!" He grabbed his shoes that were laying on the floor and began walking towards the door, the Swiss looking at him but not moving an inch. He remained stoic even when Rafa was grabbing the doorhandle of the hotel room. 

"Vete a la mierda." The last thing Rafa said before slamming shut the door, leaving Roger alone in what used to be the Spaniard’s room. 

It was then when Roger realized what he had done, the pain he had caused. 

"Shit," he muttered. "Shit." Louder this time. "SHIT!" He screamed, running a hand through his hair. 

He went to the door, opening it and looking at an empty hallway, Rafa was gone. It almost seemed as if he had never been here, the only proof was the unmade bed that kept a little of the younger player's body heat. 

Roger sat down on the couch, head on his hands. His previous lost now seemed distant and unimportant, overweight by tye hurt he had caused to his lover, to his Rafa. 

"What have I done?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof boi. That's sad. I'll finish writing the other chapter so you don't have to wait like three months for them to make up again.   
> I find funny that this story was supposed to be finished by October from last year, and now is May. I'm so bad at updating.   
> Send me love, comments and kudos help me a lot.


	24. Day 24 "Forgiving"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Forgiveness....can you imagine..... forgiveness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm backkkkk guyssssss.   
> I know you've missed me! After not four months here's the making up from the angsty chapter. I hope you like it.

"¡Maldito hijo de puta!"

Titín raised his head from what he was currently reading on the hotel bed. He could recognize that voice anywhere, he spent most of his time listening to it going on and on, but that tone of voice was one that he didn't hear that often. 

Rafa was standing next to the doorway, pair of shoes in one hand, and a white key card on the other. He looked stressed and….sad? Maybe sad wasn't the best word to describe what he was seeing in the young mallorcan’s eyes, he seemed heart broken, but the other Spaniard didn't know why. 

He stood up, leaving his phone on the crisp sheets of the bed, and walked towards his friend. Titín was almost an arm away from Rafa when the younger one closed the gap between them and hugged him, tight, as if he was anchoring himself to Earth. 

"Rafito….what happened?" he asked, his hands resting on the broad shoulders of his friend. 

He sniffled, all the anger that he seemed to had when he opened the door, now had almost evaporated, leaving a desolating sentiment that pulled at his heart and didn't seem to leave his thoughts. "He…Me and Roger fighted over his match with Stefanos." His voice was small, accent now heavier with grief and tiredness, his pajamas making him look softer. 

Titín frowned. He knew about Roger and Rafa’s relationship, it was probably him the first one in which Rafa confided to tell the big news, back in 2008, although he made him promise not to tell anyone anything since he wasn't really sure where it was going to go, but he hadn't really heard of any of the couple's problems, aside of the regular tiny stuff. If Rafa and the Swiss had fought, then it was probably because of something out of the ordinary. 

He looked at the younger Spaniard, his eyes downcast, and led him to the small living room, making Rafa leave the shoes he was carrying by the door. He must've gotten out of his room in a hurry, to shaken to remember to put them on. 

The sofa was comfy, soft and warm. He sat besides his friend, Rafa playing with his hands and his leg moving up and down in a repetitive manner like he did when he was about to play a match. He seemed anxious. 

"If you no want, you cannot tell me…" he trailed off, pulling at a loose thread on his shirt. 

Rafa shook his head, and looking up at his physio added, "Can I just…..stay? I think Roger still in my room…" 

Maymo flashed him a brief, but sincere, smile, throwing an arm around his friend’s shoulders, pulling him close to his side. He stood up after a few moments, "You get the bed, I'm not the one who has to play-" he checked his watch, 1:15 am, -"tomorrow." He stretched his arm towards his friend making him stand up from the sofa and leading him to the small bedroom. 

"Here, get some rest Rafito," he said, making his way towards the sofa as Rafa made himself comfortable on what used to be his bed. 

He grabbed some blankets from the closet and laid down on the couch. Just as he was about to close his eyes and call it a night, a small voice intruded the silence that had reigned in the room. 

"Titín?"

"Sí?"

He could feel the small smile behind the next words.   
"Gracias."

Maymo smiled, even though Rafa couldn't see him. "No problem Rafa."

***

Roger woke up with a weird sensation in his stomach. He didn't know what it was at first, but then he knew. 

It was probably guilt. 

Guilt for making Rafa feel like shit. For making him storm off his own room. For being a complete asshole. 

He sat on the edge of the bed…. Rafa’s bed, and ran a hand through his messy hair. He shouldn't be here, he should be with his kids and wife and maybe already flying back to Switzerland to prepare for the next tournament. But part of him couldn't just leave Australia knowing the pain he'd caused to the young Spaniard who had done really nothing wrong, it was all Roger's anger and frustration fault. 

Roger needed to apologize. 

But how? The Swiss was a hundred percent sure the Spaniard wanted nothing to do with him now, and less with his quarter final match tomorrow. God he had really screwed up. Come on, he was Roger Federer, sooner or later he would come up with a plan….yes, hopefully sooner than later. 

Groaning, he got up, and walked to were he had thrown his bag. He searched for his phone inside of it and called his wife, Mirka. 

It rang thrice before a familiar voice picked up. 

"Rog? Where are you? We leave in four hours." 

Ah shit, he forgot about that. 

"I went for a walk around the grounds," he lied, "You know how I'm feeling after a loss like this." He hoped that that excuse was enough to keep her from asking more. 

There was silence from her side of the line from a couple of seconds, cut by a cry of Swiss German, it was probably Leo or Lenny, or maybe both. 

"Yeah, don't worry. I gotta go, Leo doesn't want to put on clothes-" he chuckled at the thought-"I'll see you later."

"Okay, see ya!" 

He internally cringed at how fake his enthusiasm seemed, but it seemed real enough for his wife to buy it. He put down the phone and went to the bathroom to take a shower, before of the big thing he had to do.

***  
He finished getting dressed, his hair still a bit damp from the shower, grabbed his phone, and headed out the room. 

What was the plan? He still wasn't sure.

But come on, if he was able to make up something when he was 40-0 down and win the game, he was going to be able to figure out something. 

Now, where was Rafa? The room in which he had stayed was the Spaniard’s so he must've had to find another place to spend the night. All the rooms in the hotel were booked because of the tournament, so he must've stayed with another person. 

He continued to walk down the hallway till he reached the elevators. Rafa and his team were very close, he had probably recurred to one of them. Francis? No, he was probably asleep at that time. Carlos? He wouldn't have understand what had happened. Maymo? 

He stopped at that thought. Maymo was a very good guess. From what he'd heard, the older Spaniard was a very close friend of Rafa, they shared mostly everything. 

That was it, he was going to head to Maymo’s. Getting in the elevator, he pressed the floor lower than the one he was currently in. Fortunately, he had already been to Maymo’s room, so he knew which one was it. 

Standing in front of the wooden door, he sucked in a deep breath, preparing for the imminent, and knocked twice. 

Nothing happened. 

He was getting ready to knock again when the door opened. Revealing Rafael. 

Except, it wasn't his Rafael, it was Rafael Maymo. 

"Roger, what you doing here?" He asked, his hand ready to close the door in case something happened. 

Roger went blank, he hadn't thought about this part of the plan. 

"I want to talk to Rafa, I know his in there Maymo," he said trying to sound as soft as possible to lower the chance of the door being closed in his face. 

Maymo crossed his arms on his chest. "What makes you think he wants to talk to you?" He accused. 

"Ermmmm-" he was about to say something, anything really, but was soon interrupted when a tan figure appeared besides the Spaniard. 

"Titín, déjalo pasar," Rafa said, his voice laced with a hint of sleep. 

"Raf-" Let us talk, please." He looked preoccupied, but trusted his friend and boss and opened the door wider for Roger, while he left the room. 

"I'm gonna be at Carlos' " And with that, he left. 

There were just him and Rafa, just like last night. 

Rafa was standing there, if he stretched his arm he could touch his warm skin, he could almost smell his unique scent. But he couldn't do anything.

"I'm sorry," he blurted out. 

Rafa looked down, his arms crossed on his chest. 

"I shouldn't have been such an asshole."

Rafa snorted, "More like a hijo de puta." His mouth curled up slightly, but then it went serious again. 

Roger smiled softly, "Yeah, I was angry and frustrated, but that didn't excuse what I said to you, no one deserves to be treated like I treated you, if I had the power, I would reverse what I said." He stepped forward and reached to touch Rafa’s shoulder feeling the warmth irradiating form his skin. 

"I'm so fucking sorry, Raf." He looked down, his hand still in his shoulder. "I love you."

Rafa remained still for a moment, but then a warm smile appeared on his face. He stretched his hand and with a softness that caught Roger by surprise coming from a guy who played with such an incredible force it seemed impossible, stroked his cheek. 

"I know." He smiled. "You is idiota. I love you too, but you promise to no get mad at me because of something I no do."

Roger smiled, leaning towards the soft touch of Rafa’s hand. "I promise, it was stupid from my part."

He chuckled, "Sí, it was." 

The Swiss couldn't resist anymore, and just grabbed the Spaniard by the back of his neck and pressed their lips together, the soft touch sending shivers down Roger's spine. Rafa stroked the small, and damp, curls in the back of his hair. It all felt right, and perfect. 

They broke apart, and Rafa threw his arms around his shoulders, pulling him close to him, resting his head in the crook of his shoulder. Roger sighed, content and pliant. 

"También te quiero."

Roger smiled, "Beat Stefanos for me, I'm sure you will."

Rafa chuckled, "We'll see, Rogi, we'll see."

That was enough for Roger. It was enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 6.....more.... chapters....  
> Please leave comments and kudos, it helps a lot! If you wish, leave prompts or ideas you'd like to see!


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